


Destined for Greatness

by niklovr



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Coming of Age, F/M, Family, Friendship/Love, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-25 02:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niklovr/pseuds/niklovr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coming of age tale for both Gwen and Arthur, mostly Gwen-centric. This story will explore her family life, her friendship with Leon, and her adjustment as Morgana's handmaiden. According to legend, Arthur fell for Guinevere at first sight and so it will go with this fic. This is a somewhat prequel to Desperate Measures that will reveal the origins of an arrogant prince and a shy handmaiden who will one day become the once and futures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Frogging at Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for checking this story out. Your thoughts are appreciated so don't be shy!!! This story is somewhat of a prequel to my Arwen fic, Desperate Measures, but not in the strictest terms. There may be inside jokes, but nothing that forces reading of both stories to understand either. Everyone is pretty young here (no worries as they'll grow up!), so it's more like an origins fic, pre-Merlin's arrival. There will be some Arwen with the goal to honor both the legend and the series. Think of it as a coming of age story for Gwen and for Arthur with the emphasis being on Gwen. As always, thanks for reading. :-)

Chapter 1: Frogging at Midnight

 

Hands clasped tightly in front of her, twelve-year-old Guinevere Degrance reminded herself not to fidget. It was a difficult task as her first inclination was to move when her nerves became rattled, and nothing rattled her more than being under her mother's scrutiny. Although this time, it wasn't Gwen's table setting or bedding under inspection but a very important gift for a dear friend.

 

"This stitching," Deira said in a low, husky whisper, "is tight and even. The line is perfect. Far better than anything I could have done."

 

"Really, Mum?" Gwen took a tentative step forward.

 

Her mother's slender, but work-worn hands turned the deep red fabric over, holding it closer to the small window where light from the morning sun beamed in. The petite woman beckoned her daughter over with a warm smile and a jut of her chin. Since her birthday, Guinevere had grown the few inches to stand a little above her mother's shoulder. Stray tendrils dangled from a bun onto Deira's cheek. She tucked them behind her ear in an offhand gesture that Gwen mimicked unintentionally.

 

"See here and here," Deira said once Gwen stood at her side. "This is better than the Court Seamstresses."

 

Heat flamed the young girl's cheeks. Gwen smiled as she shook her head in denial. "It's not that good."

 

"I wouldn't put you on." Deira was in the process of handing the cloak back to her daughter when she paused.

 

Gwen held her breath. Did her mother see? She didn't want to point it out. Humility was a noble characteristic and one's ability was nothing if she could not be humble. At least that's what Gwen had been taught by her parents and she believed it to be true. Yet, that still didn't quell her wish for her mother to notice that one extra embellishment and for Gwen to hope she had further gained her mother's approval.

 

"Oh, Gwennie…" Trembling fingers traced the golden lines of the dragon within a circle. "The embroidery is… Such detail, daughter. Leon will be a proper squire for certain when he arrives in Court wearing this."

 

"So you think he will be pleased with it?"

 

"Very. Here." Her mother folded the cloak and handed it to her. "Careful it doesn't get soiled. You know he leaves tomorrow."

 

"I know. I thought maybe you'd take it with you this morning."

 

"Me?" Her mother headed to the hearth. Even though the day had just begun, her movements were slow and measured as she dished porridge into four bowls. "I will not take credit for your work and you mustn't allow anyone to ever do so. Are you listening?"

 

"Yes, Mum."

 

Gwen carefully folded the cloak and wrapped it inside parchment paper, tying it with string. As noise sounded at the rear door, she joined her mother at the hearth. She was balancing the four bowls in her arms when her brother and her father entered.

 

Although only two years separated them with Elyan being the elder, her brother stood tall and gangly beside their father. His coloring, darker like their mother's, seemed almost ruddy against his pale muslin shirt. Up since before sunrise, he gave her a look as he waited behind Tom to wash for breakfast. Gwen bit back a smile. She and her father got along quite well, but father and son often butted heads. She couldn't wait to hear Elyan's version of 'Morning at the Forge' when they broke bread at lunch.

 

After washing up, Tom kissed his wife soundly on the cheek. Her responding giggle erupted into a cough. Gwen and Elyan exchanged another look as their father rubbed their mother's back. This wasn't the first time they'd heard that hacking cough ravage their mother's small frame. Gwen clutched the back of her chair.

 

"Elyan, run and fetch Gaius."

 

Elyan was at the door when his mother said, "You do no such thing."

 

"Deira."

 

"Tom Degrance, no. Gaius has more than enough to do than to worry with me. It's just a case of the morning chills." She pulled a shawl from a hook near a door and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Elyan, sit and eat."

 

Elyan's eyes widened. He looked at his father. When Tom slowly nodded, the boy left the door and joined his family at the table. Once everyone was settled, Deira chatted about the day's expectations. Gwen listened but she also noticed how her father stared a little longer at her mother than usual.

 

Later as mother and daughter made the trek to the de Maris manor, Deira headed toward Lady Angelica's chambers to help her dress. Gwen hesitated in the corridor, her package tucked securely under her arm.

 

Deira shooed her with a quick wave. "Go along now. He will like it."

 

"Are you sure it's good enough?"

 

"Gwennie, dear," her mother said with a soft sigh, "never doubt yourself. Never. You are better than good enough. Now run along before it's too late."

 

Taking her mother's words to heart, Gwen bolstered her nerve. She had worked on the cloak for weeks, taking great care with every seam. Not once had she ripped a bit of fabric or had cause to unravel a piece of thread. It was the first work that she had done alone without her mother's assistance. She hoped Leon would be proud to wear it as he served the great Knights of Camelot.

 

She found him in his quarters, taking in the last bits of his morning meal. He smiled around a bite of bread as he waited for her to come in.

 

"Morning, Gwen. Where's Elyan?"

 

"At the forge."

 

She sat at the table. Her eyes wandered the room. She and Elyan had spent many days in these four walls. Jumping. Playing. Making noise. His mother didn't mind the children being together despite the difference in social status, but Gwen's mother was always certain to remind them to take care. Now as Gwen looked around, she noted the open trunk at the foot of the bed. Clothes and a new, shiny shield rested on top. Her good friend really was leaving. Her fingers tightened around the package. The crinkling paper sounded loud in her ears.

 

"What's wrong?"

 

He pushed his plate aside. Slate blue eyes stared back at her. The soft lines of his boyish face had started the shift into the angular planes that resembled his father. Gwen returned his stare, a little surprised at how he'd grown up and she hadn't realized until now.

 

"You look sad. Elyan teasing you again?"

 

Leon chuckled softly as he stood. Perhaps overnight, he had grown inches. He was much taller than her brother now. When and how did all this happen? Puzzled, Gwen chewed her bottom lip.

 

"Gwen?" He stepped to her chair. Two fingers grabbed hold of wayward curly strands and tugged. "Don't cry. I'll show Elyan the proper way to treat his sister."

 

"It's not that. He's been good. At least as of this morning."

 

Leon rested against the table's edge. Arms folded across his chest, he frowned down at her. "Then what is it? You're always smiles and giggles. What have you got there?"

 

She looked down at the wrinkled parchment that rested on her lap, clutched firmly in her grasp. If he hadn't said something, she would have forgotten. "It's for you."

 

"Is it?" He laughed. "I could hardly tell."

 

"Oh, Leon!"

 

A bit embarrassed and determined not to show it, Gwen thrust the package into his waiting hands.

 

He caught it effortlessly.

 

"Am I to open it?"

 

"If you don't want it, I'll take it back."

 

Merriment twinkled in his eyes as he looked at her. Whenever Elyan picked on her, the young noble often came to her rescue but that didn't mean he didn't get his fair share of teasing in. The three of them were close friends. Still Gwen knew with the coming morn, all of that would change.

 

"Open it."

 

He hesitated only a fraction of a second. Then he tore into the parchment like a beast feasting on his prey. The urge to move swept through Gwen. Sitting on her hands provided a quick solution. That didn't help her racing heart as Leon's eyes rounded as all the red came into view.

 

He whipped the cloak in front of him and stood to his full height in one move. His mouth opened. No sound came out. Gwen's watchful gaze took in everything. The flush of his cheeks. The slow smile on his lips. The look of wonder as he visibly traced the Pendragon emblem.

 

"This is a squire's cloak," he said in reverence. "I do not have one yet."

 

"You do now."

 

"I know, but…" Their gazes met. "Where did you get this? Surely, you did not make this? One of the Court Seamstresses told you to give this to me?"

 

Remembering her mother's words, Gwen shook her head. "No, no one gave it to me. I made it."

 

"You?"

 

At her quiet admission, he quickly inspected the cloak again. Holding it carefully, he marched to the window and peered under the sunlight. Once he was done, he wrapped it around his shoulders. When he turned to face her, he wore the brightest smile.

 

"I am honored."

 

Gwen knew the heat of a blush colored her cheeks. She hoped it did not match the richness of his cloak.

 

She rose from the table and came round to get a better look. Oh, yes, her good friend who liked to run and jump had been replaced. A squire stood in his place. She was proud of him, but sad for her.

 

"There's that face again." He went to her and ruffled her hair. "If you don't tell me what's wrong…"

 

She shrugged. "Everything changes when people grow up. Elyan is at the forge all the time. You're going off to Court. Everything's different now. You'll be different now that you're Sir Candor's squire."

 

Leon reached out to pat her shoulder. "One thing I promise. I'll never change. I'll always be your friend."

 

D*f*G

 

"You're fidgeting, Arthur."

 

Arthur Pendragon held himself erect at his father's sharp, but quiet command. As the son of a king, much was required of him and most he accepted as due course. Even at thirteen years of age. But wearing his ill-fitting crown, ceremonial robes, and wide, false smile as they played host to one of the rudest monarchs in the neighboring kingdoms was more than Arthur could bear. And the fact that Morgana was allowed to be absent from the meet and greet made it altogether even worse. Why did she receive all the perks? He was the crown prince and future heir to the throne. She was only a nobleman's daughter, his father's ward. It wasn't fair.

 

"Stand up straight," Uther said through clenched teeth. "Never give anyone cause to believe that your guard is down."

 

"Yes, Father—"

 

"Sire," Uther corrected. "When we're in this capacity, I am your king."

 

Arthur swallowed hard. "Yes, my Lord."

 

Standing just to the right of his father on the step behind him, Arthur kept his back straight and his eyes trained forward. Even with the sun blaring at its highest peak, the young teen refused to blink.

 

The pounding of hooves signaled the arrival of King Odin and his party of knights. Arthur hoped the man's younger son had come with him. The two used to get along quite well. Being another heir, the boy understood what Arthur did not allow himself to say aloud.

 

The men all dismounted. King Odin with his chest puffed out and his eyes cold as ice stepped forward. Arthur watched his father and the other man grasp forearms in welcome. Odin's gaze trailed over Arthur in barely contained disdain. Arthur lifted his chin in a faint glimmer of defiance.

 

"My boy is already a foot taller," Odin said.

 

Uther released a harsh chuckle as he failed to come to his son's defense. Instead, he invited their guests inside and led the way. Taking this as silent dismissal, Arthur gladly took his leave and stormed to his chambers.

 

The crown and ceremonial robes were tossed aside in a blind fit of sadness and hurt. He threw himself on the bed. Clutching a pillow to his chest, he swallowed down the tears that wanted desperately to fall. Future rulers didn't cry. Everybody knew that.

 

Behind him, the door to his chambers eased open. He didn't have to turn to know that Morgana had entered. She always had a way of finding him when he was at his worst.

 

"Go away." The words came out muffled against his pillow.

 

"What's wrong?" She climbed onto the bed beside him.

 

Also thirteen, Morgana had started to look less like the little girl she was when she moved in three years ago and more like one of the ladies-in-waiting. Arthur found himself noticing the green in her eyes and the way her dress clung to parts of her. The changes confused him. Everything confused him.

 

But today, he noticed none of that at all. Today, he was a shaking mass of impotent frustration and disappointment. If he didn't find a way to channel it, he was sure he'd go mad.

 

"Nothing," he said.

 

Before she could protest, he left. What would be the purpose of explaining to her what it was like being the son of Uther Pendragon and never knowing what was expected of him? Uther never smiled at Arthur the way he smiled at Morgana. He always expected and demanded more.

 

As had become his custom of late, Arthur's footsteps took him to the armory. Among the mass assemblage of weaponry, the young teen felt safe. The swords gleamed with promise. A crossbow rested on the tabletop. He fingered the arrows. Each point was razor sharp and ready for prey.

 

Shouts and grunts filtered through the thick walls. Arthur slipped through the wooden doors. The familiar path led him to the knights' training ground. A decent mound of earth blocked him from their view but afforded him a range of rituals to study.

 

At thirteen, he had already begun his training, but the deadlier, combative preparation wouldn't begin until he was of age. For the nobles, they came in as squires at age fourteen. While Arthur would not have to formally serve a knight, tradition deemed that he could not take part until he reached the appropriate age. Of course his father could allow him acceptance, but Uther was nothing if not traditional. Arthur would have to wait until his next birthday.

 

He hated waiting.

 

The practice was brutal. The knights held nothing back. They exchanged blows and quickly stood up again. Flashes of silver glittered in the afternoon as blades connected. The hurt that had driven Arthur from his chambers began to fade. This was far more exciting than standing at attention. He wanted to be like these men. A warrior. A fighter who feared nothing, not man nor beast. When he started proper training, he'd show them all. Arthur Pendragon would be better than his father or King Odin. He'd be the best warrior who ever lived.

 

D*f*G

 

"Wake up!"

 

Elyan's excited whisper and persistent shake pulled Gwen from a dream about a picnic with a handsome prince. She slapped her brother's hand from her shoulder. The dream was nice and the prince was sweet. She wanted to get back to it.

 

"Gwen!"

 

A sharp pinch on her arm made her eyes fly open. Hands balled into fists, she sat straight up in bed.

 

"Elyan, stop it," she whispered back.

 

"Come on."

 

He hurried back to his bed. She rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn. The adjustment from dream world to reality came grudgingly. Meanwhile, her brother's shadow danced around as he changed from his night clothes to pants and tunic. By the time he pulled on his boots, she was wide awake.

 

"Whatever are you doing?" she asked. "Father will have your hide!"

 

"Leon is waiting," he said. "Hurry up or we'll leave you."

 

"What?"

 

"It's a full moon, silly."

 

A full moon? Sleep still fuddled her thinking. A full moon. She looked up at the window that hung high above her brother's bed. As the outline of Leon's wavy locks came into view, understanding hit Gwen in her tummy.

 

"A full moon!" She all but squealed. "Frogging—"

 

Elyan's hand clamped over her mouth faster than a whip. "Are you trying to wake him?"

 

"Sorry," she murmured when her brother released her.

 

"Are you coming or not?"

 

"Yes!"

 

She had never dressed so quickly. Donning a pair of Elyan's old breeches and boots that he had outgrown years ago, she slipped on a tunic and was ready by the time Elyan met her at the door. They eased out without any trouble as they had done it so many times before.

 

The three raced to their favorite pond just on the border of the Darkling Woods. Thankfully, Leon had thought to bring a sack as Elyan and Gwen had been too hurried to grab one. With their bare feet dangling in the cool waters, the longtime friends listened to the rippling flow and the croaking frogs. So far, none of them had made a move on their prey. It just felt good to be outside in the brisk night air.

 

"Benedict showed me the sword you made," Leon said. "That's quite good work."

 

"Thanks."

 

"He's almost as good as Father," Gwen piped in, hitting her brother's shoulder.

 

"Soon, I'll need a sword like that," Leon said. "I would be honored if you would do mine."

 

"You have the Court's blacksmith for that," Elyan said quietly.

 

Leon skimmed a rock across the pond. It settled in with a quiet plop. "I want yours."

 

"I wish I could be a knight," Elyan said so quietly that Gwen wasn't sure at first that her brother had said it. "I do."

 

The three sat in silence for a moment. The King had strict rules about who could serve the Court and how. As commoners, the Degrance family would never be allowed to wear the royal red that proclaimed every citizen's pride in Camelot.

 

"Maybe things will change." Leon's voice was quiet. Noblemen did not speak against Uther Pendragon. Even a squire knew to do so with caution.

 

"Sure they will." Elyan sounded unconvinced.

 

Her brother's desolation wounded her heart. Gwen did not want to see the world as having limits. Not after the sweet dream that Elyan had torn her from. Maybe some of that dream still filled her now because she could only see possibilities.

 

She gave her brother a playful nudge. "There's always hope."

 

 

 


	2. Assuming Responsibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About 6 months have passed. Gwen, on the cusp of womanhood, is experiencing confusion about her everything. Tension in the Degrance household isn't helping things. While for Arthur, he's finally getting the chance to prove himself and then by chance, he sees the one person who will change his life forever. Only thing is, he doesn't know that, yet.

Chapter 2: Assuming Responsibility

 

A worn leather journal lay across Gwen's lap. The pages detailed the history of the five kingdoms and the girl painstakingly read the passage on the kingdom of Nemeth. Unlike most of the residents in lower town, the Degrance family knew how to read. Deira's mother had worked for Lady Angelica's family and they were adamant that everyone in their household knew numbers and letters. When Deira and Tom married, she taught him, too. They had been determined to teach their children as well.

 

A loud sigh pulled Gwen from her lesson. She looked up in time to see her mother's shoulders slump as the woman grabbed the wall and drew in a deep breath.

 

"Mum?"

 

Gwen marked her place in the book with a ribbon. Hurried footsteps took her to the hearth where Deira was preparing the evening meal. She wrapped her arm around her mother's slender waist and led her to a chair at the table.

 

"I'll finish up."

 

"Did you finish your reading?" Deira asked, her voice more husky than firm. "I want you to do that first. I'll tend to dinner."

 

"No, Mum. I can do this." Gwen tied on her apron and washed her hands. "Let me. Please?"

 

"You're so headstrong." Her mother accepted the mug of water that Gwen handed her. "You're growing up much too fast."

 

Gwen shrugged. Carrots and potatoes still needed to be peeled and chopped for the stew. The rabbit meat was already simmering in the pot and creating a delicious aroma in their small cottage. She grabbed a knife and went to work. In time, she heard her mother's breathing return to normal.

 

"Leon stopped by the manor this afternoon," Deira said.

 

Gwen looked up with a smile. "Really? It's been so long since I've seen him. Sir Candor keeps him busy."

 

"Being a squire there's no time for idleness."

 

The girl nodded. More than half a year had passed since Leon had tapped their window to go frogging under a full moon. Gwen and Elyan hadn't known it then, but they knew now that night was their last frogging adventure with their dear friend. Squires of Camelot had no time for childish games, certainly not with the children of servants. It was something Gwen had feared. Yet she had been prepared when his continued absence had come to pass. Simply put, Leon de Maris wasn't a child anymore. He had moved on.

 

"His manner is so…" Deira continued, unaware of her daughter's musings.

 

"So what?" Gwen set aside a potato to give her mother her full attention.

 

"Reserved. Maybe that's too harsh. He's certainly more controlled. Focused. He's not the willful little boy who put toads in the punch to see if his aunty would grow warts."

 

Gwen giggled. She remembered that. Elyan had been his cohort for the experiment but she had declined due to fear of repercussions.

 

To the girl's surprise, her mother laughed, too. "Oh, how angry Lord Garon was. Leon could not sit for days. I thank the gods that neither you nor Elyan was involved in that caper."

 

Gwen bit her tongue. She'd sworn to both boys never to tell. Her word was her honor. Besides, she knew that her mother might shake at laughter over Leon's involvement, her sentiment would sour if she learned of Elyan's participation.

 

"Is Leon treated well there?" She reached for the potato and returned to her task.

 

"Have you not gone to watch the training?"

 

Her cheeks grew warm at the question. Gwen couldn't place the source of her reaction. When they were younger, Tom often took her and Elyan to watch the knights train. Sometimes Leon joined them. Deira encouraged the diversion and Tom would hold tightly to Elyan's hand while carrying Gwen on his shoulders. Of course that had been years ago. Yet, the thought of squires in training shouldn't have made her flush with embarrassment. But then lately many things that involved boys caused that reaction.

 

"I suppose you haven't had time," Deira said. "Hand me the beans. I can snap sitting just as well standing."

 

Gwen did as she was told. Her mother suggested that she join her at the table while she chopped vegetables. They fell into a comfortable rhythm of snapping and chopping. Soon, the conversation returned to Leon.

 

"Does he look different, too?" Gwen asked. Most of the knights looked so formidable. While Leon was a few years off from becoming a full-fledged knight, Gwen knew that with training he would assume the same rugged air that afflicted the other men who rode in red and chainmail. Well, she hoped he would not be so afflicted, but in all actuality, he would have to in order to properly serve the king.

 

"Well, he's grown another foot!"

 

"Another?" Gwen stared at her mother in wonder. "Surely not."

 

"Perhaps not a whole foot, but he and Lord Garon can see eye to eye."

 

Gwen sighed. "He was already so tall. He's grown up."

 

"So have you. Look at you," her mother said, wonder in her dark brown eyes and warm, husky voice. "Thirteen years old. You're not a child anymore, but you're not quite a woman either."

 

Being on the cusp of womanhood felt odd at times especially when some of her mates had already progressed beyond her. "Some girls my age are already betrothed."

 

"Don't you fret about that." Deira tossed her pile of snapped beans into a bowl. "Your love will come when it comes."

 

"I don't think about such things." Denial was always quick on the tip of Gwen's tongue. "I feel I will always be here with you and Dad."

 

"And I know you won't. Life has so much more planned for you." Her mother reached out and patted her cheek.

 

"Elyan!" Tom's heavy voice broke the tender moment between the mother and daughter. His heavy footsteps added to the harshness of his tone. "Don't turn your back when I'm talking to you."

 

"I'm sorry, Father, it wasn't intentional!" Elyan kissed the top of his mother's head and then went to the basin to wash.

 

"And that tone. Whatever happened to your manners?" Tom questioned. His thick-balled fists rested on his waist. He looked at the women at the table. "I don't even recognize him anymore. What happened to my son?"

 

Elyan's back stiffened but he offered no words in his defense. Gwen didn't know what to say. Her eyes darted back and forth between her father and her brother. Their spats had become more frequent and it made everyone tense. She knew they loved each other. But she didn't understand why all of a sudden they had forgotten.

 

"Tom, stop tearing into him," Deira said. "Elyan, would you put these in water for me?"

 

"Of course, Mum." He smiled as he took the bowl.

 

"Maybe he'd do better with you all day than with me at the forge," Tom grumbled, obviously unable to let go. At the washbasin, he continued with his tirade. "I wasted an hour looking for him. Maybe being inside a manor is better suited to him."

 

Elyan glanced at Gwen. She silently pleaded with him to hold his tongue. If he said anything, it would only make it worse.

 

But her brother had other ideas. His lips parted and Gwen's jaw dropped.

 

"I'm sorry, Dad," Elyan said. "I lost track of time. It won't happen again."

 

All at once, Tom Degrance softened. The teasing light that Gwen associated with her father glittered in his eyes. He gave his son a gentle pat. "I was your age once. There's so much to see. I remember wanting to do everything at once."

 

Elyan nodded.

 

"I don't like being hard on you, but you're becoming a man now. I wouldn't be much of a father if I said nothing. You can't run off like you did."

 

"I'll be more responsible in future."

 

"That's all I ask."

D*f*G

 

Sword in hand, Arthur plunged forward. The clang of metal on metal was thrilling and vibrated up his arm. His opponent had no chance as Arthur drove him across the field. Sweat blurred the prince's vision, but he paid it no mind. Adrenaline fueled him. Even though this was only a practice session, he put everything into the exercise. When Sir Mordecai called for a break, Arthur couldn't hear him over the rush of blood flooding his ears. The knight had to physically break them apart.

 

His opponent, Alexander, a squire with the same build as Arthur but obviously lacking his skill, headed to his servant and the pitcher of water. Arthur did not move. He wiped his brow with the back of his gloved hand and drew in deep, steady breaths.

 

"Get some water," Mordecai said. "You've earned it."

 

Arthur respected Mordecai and the man's abilities. He was by far one of Camelot's best swordsmen. Since turning fourteen three weeks ago, Arthur had given his all to earn Mordecai's respect and it seemed like he was getting close to that goal. Of course, being the crown prince meant that everyone bowed down to him, but the motion meant nothing if the act was based solely on birthright. Arthur wanted more than that from the people and from himself.

 

Across the way, the tallest of the squires finished his mace exercises and Arthur couldn't help but notice. Leon de Maris was squire to Sir Candor. Because Candor and Uther had fought together side by side on many occasions, the king often invited Candor to dine with him. On rare occurrences, Uther included Arthur and Morgana to their dinners. The men retold battle stories and lately, Candor spoke highly of Leon and how Mordecai deemed him the best of all the squires in training. Arthur had never reacted to the slight. Not once.

 

Now, as Arthur headed to his servant who had a tin of water ready for him to quench his thirst, he leaned against the stone wall, drank his fill, and watched Leon. The squire headed to the far edges of the field where a young commoner stood. As the two polar opposites—one was tall and pale while the other was short and dark—talked, Arthur found himself still fixated on Leon. He supposed he was sizing him up. Trying to understand why Mordecai preferred him so. Sure, he was tall, but he was gangly. Yes, he handled a sword with ease, but so did Arthur. Fine, his manners were impeccable, but—

 

_Wait_.

 

A flash of orange appeared alongside the shorter, darker fellow. A slender, feminine hand waved with emotion while the other grabbed hold of his forearm. Dark curls blew in defiance around her head. Without pausing to question himself or his motives, Arthur moved casually around the field. Casually, but closer to the animated trio.

 

Curiosity had always warred inside him, caught between being his friend and his foe. Not willing to appear too interested, he balanced his attention between his now empty tin cup and his practice sword. But whether he liked it or not, his gaze kept going back to her.

 

_Her_.

 

The girl's skin glowed in the afternoon sun. Against the orange frock, her flesh caught the tone of the sun's rays and held firm. For some reason, he couldn't get the word honey out of his mind.

 

And her lips. They looked soft, he supposed. Leon's deep tones rumbled something and her mouth parted into the most breathtaking smile. Momentarily stunned, he stopped in his tracks.  

 

Truly, Arthur was struck. He found himself gulping air just to breathe normally again. Obviously, she was a commoner, he told himself. Perhaps, she served in the de Maris manor. Whoever she was, Leon knew her quite well and their friendship was apparent. As for the other boy, could he be her betrothed?

 

But surely not.

 

She was too natural, too real, too unlike any maiden he'd ever seen at Court to be promised to—to—

 

Arthur swallowed hard. The remainder of the thought lodged in his chest. Then before he could force himself to complete it, she looped her arm around the darker, taller boy and pulled him away. They headed away from the castle and Arthur imagined back to lower town.

 

"My Lord." Leon bowed slightly. He seemed startled to find Arthur standing there.

 

Arthur returned his greeting with a frown. "We're at practice. Call me Arthur."

 

"Yes, Sire. Sorry. Arthur."

 

"You had visitors." Arthur nodded toward in the direction of the two who were almost lost in the crowd. Almost, but not quite. The vibrant orange refused to blend. His gaze kept returning to it easily despite his best intentions to do otherwise.

 

"Oh, yeah," Leon said with a smile. "Elyan and Gwen."

 

"Hmm." Questions begged to be asked, but Arthur dared not give in. Yet something must have registered on his face because Leon continued and Arthur was grateful for his openness.

 

"I've known them since we were little ones."

 

"Brother and sister?"

 

Leon nodded. "Yes, their mother is my mother's handmaiden. Their father is the blacksmith."

 

"Ely and Gwennis?" Arthur intentionally mispronounced their names. He didn’t know why. Instinct guided him.

 

The tall squire chuckled. "No, Elyan and Gwen. Actually, her name is Guinevere, but everyone calls her Gwen. Looks like my round two is starting. It was good talking to you, Sire. I mean, Arthur. You're handy with a sword. I hope we can spar sometime."

 

"We shall," Arthur said. Although he was completely distracted after Leon's final revelation, Arthur meant his promise and appreciated the squire's notice of his skills.

 

Mordecai summoned Arthur's division to return for their next round of exercises. As Arthur headed over, his mind was a mass of deliberations. Orange was decreed a pretty color. The idea of siblings was sound and made perfect sense. And a name…

 

"Guinevere," he murmured it low under his breath. Gods, it just rolled off his tongue. A perfect, beautiful name that suited her—

 

No, but he couldn't think that. He wasn't allowed. She was the daughter of a servant and a blacksmith. As pretty as she was, they could never be.

 

D*f*G

 

"Did Father send you after me?"

 

"No," Gwen said, "Mum did. You know it's their anniversary."

 

"It's not like I'd forget." Elyan gave her a hard look. "I'm not stupid, Gwen."

 

She reared back as if she'd been struck. Despite the market crowd that pressed around them, she felt the world consisted of just the two of them. "I would never say that!"

 

Her brother bowed his head. Mouth drawn, his expression was contrite. "I know you wouldn't. It's just… I was talking to Leon and you just showed up to get me like I was a child. At the knights' training ground, Gwen! In front of all of them."

 

"I doubt any of them noticed the likes of us," she argued.

 

Shaking his head, he took her arm and guided them through the peddlers of fabrics and fresh vegetables and metal wares. So many were still at work even as dusk hinted in the sky.

 

"Why were you talking to Leon?" she asked.

 

"I don't know," he mumbled.

 

"Yes, you do."

 

"Well, I just wanted to know what he was learning. We talk sometimes and he tells me. Today he's learning how to fight with a mace."

 

"Ouch."

 

Elyan laughed. "You're such a girl."

 

"I could take you out if I had to."

 

"I'm sure you could," he said, laughing.

 

They reached their cottage. Gwen reached for the door handle, but Elyan pulled her back. He pointed at the open window. Inside, their parents sat close together at the table. Tom presented Deira with a haphazardly wrapped gift. She hugged it close and then tore into it.

 

Gwen and Elyan exchanged smiles at their mother's childlike behavior. She was always like that when it came to presents. The wrapping fell to the floor as a beautiful gray shawl tumbled into her lap.

 

"Oh, Tom!" Their mother's exclamation of glee carried through the open window. She kissed him.

 

"I guess that means you like it," he said.

 

"It does." She reached inside her pocket and pulled out his gift. "This is yours."

 

"It's so small," he said, turning it over in the palm of his hand. "Are you sure it's for me?"

 

"Oh, you!" She slapped his arm. "Don't be ungrateful."

 

He gently cupped her face. "Never."

 

"Open it already." Deira drew her new shawl close around her. "Hurry."

 

Tom chuckled. Unlike their mother, he took his time. How he managed the patience confounded Gwen. She wondered if he did it to torture her mother. With the twinkle in his eyes glowing brightly, she believed her guess was correct.

 

"Tom!"

 

"It's open." He laughed, but then his laugher sobered as he pulled a leather string from the wrapping. A silver pendant dangled at the end, glittering as it swung to and fro. "Deira, this is too much."

 

"It's a circle," she said as if he hadn't spoken. "Like our love, it can never be broken. It just goes round and round. That's how I love you. I want you to wear it."

 

He tied the ends of the string together and pulled it over his head. "I'll never take it off. Happy anniversary, Deira Degrance."

 

"Happy anniversary."

 

That night, Elyan and Gwen went frogging again for old time's sake. Even without the light of a full moon, the time at the pond was peaceful and the frogging wasn't so bad. However, both tired of chasing frogs much earlier than they ever had in the past. Gwen drew her knees to her chest and rested her back against the base of a large boulder. Elyan stretched out on the earthen floor.

 

"Thanks for getting me," Elyan said quietly. "I would have lost track of time."

 

Her brother's admission surprised her. He usually held a grudge and accused of her being their father's little girl, but to hear him thank her was new. It pleased her and frightened her at the same time.

 

"It's fine."

 

"No, it isn't," he said. "I should have remembered, but really, I didn't. I just get so tired of Dad on my every move all the time. I try hard in the forge."

 

"I know you do. It's just he's worried about Mum," Gwen said quietly, squeezing her legs tighter to her. "We all are. We have to pull together now. You know?"

 

"I'm not running away!" He shot straight up. "I would never run away."

 

"I know."

 

She chewed her bottom lip. So many thoughts battled for completion inside her mind. She didn't know what to say next or what would be permissible to say to her brother. He had changed since going to work in the forge with their dad. He changed even more when Leon left to become a squire at Court.

 

If she knew what to do to help, she would, but she was lost because she was changing, too. All the time. Wanting things and not understanding why. Giggling one moment and scared the next. Most of the time she didn't know which way she was going or why. She just knew that her family meant everything to her and she could not imagine what she'd do if her family changed.

 

"Watching the knights practice just feels right," Elyan said. "I can't explain it, but it does. I feel like I should know what they know."

 

"It feels right?" she repeated.

 

"Yes."

 

Gwen wanted something to feel right, too. Wanting it as badly as she did, she couldn't begrudge her brother for having found what she craved.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't be shy about dropping a line or two. Feedback helps more than you realize!


	3. Breaking the Rules

Outings with Tom had become rare. Business at the forge had picked up over the years and as Gwen had grown up, her responsibilities kept her closer to home. With her mother not in her best health, Gwen and Elyan divided the trips to market. Yet today Tom came home early and invited Gwen to join him. She jumped at the chance. He smiled at her eagerness, extending his elbow and seeming just as thrilled to spend time with his youngest as she with him.

"It's a nice one today," he said. Taller than most, he easily maneuvered through the crowd. 

"Yes, Dad." 

She squeezed his arm. Her empty basket swung against her skirt. If her mother's health were better, Gwen would feel as if she hadn't a care in the world. Just spending some time with her father like this reminded her of the old days before everything started to change.

Tom's jovial demeanor had many stopping them with a brief chat. She was certain that her father knew everyone. The women asked about her mother and admired how grown up Gwen was becoming. The men had questions about tools and such. As they neared the fruit and vegetable stand, Gwen went ahead to fill the basket. Her father came a few steps behind. From the corner of her eye, she saw him pause at Tarran's cart of spices and herbs.

Oranges and apples lined the bottom of Gwen's basket until she spotted plums on the side. She headed over to peruse the selection. Her new proximity allowed her to hear the frantic concern in her father's voice as he spoke to his childhood friend.

"Isn't there something here that can help her?" he asked. "I know you deal in potions and such. Don't you have a tincture—"

"Tom," Tarran cut in, "I am not a physician. Gaius is who you should speak with, not me."

"Deira won't hear of it," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Nothing I say will change her mind."

"You married a stubborn woman," she said. "I'll come by soon and check in on her."

"Thank you, Tarran!"

"I'm not promising you anything," she said hurriedly. "All I can do is visit. My potions, as you call them, probably cannot cure what ails her, but she is my friend. She hasn't looked well in quite some time."

"Some days are better than others."

"But over all?"

There was a brief pause before Gwen's father answered. "She isn't getting better."

Gwen's chest constricted. She dropped the plums she'd been holding into her basket and dashed to the other side of the cart, away from her father and his private conversation. Strings of garlic hung on the side and she studied each bulb through tear-stained eyes. Rapid blinking cleared her vision, but not the ache in her heart. 

"Gwen!" 

She rubbed her eyes before turning to face her friend. "Hello, Lyra. Pretty flowers you have there."

"Yes!" Lyra said, her brown eyes bright with excitement. "They're for my hair."

Curly brown spirals adorned Lyra's head like a halo. When they were younger, all the boys teased her but now they all seemed enamored. Elyan included. 

Gwen smiled. "The yellow ones will look especially pretty."

"You can have the pinks ones." Lyra set the flowers in Gwen's basket. "You can wear them tonight at the gathering."

"What gathering?"

"In the forest, silly," her friend said. "Robbie is playing his flute for us. It's happening after dusk. Of course, you have to come."

Gwen shook her head. "I can't. My father won't let me and I have so much to do…"

"Don't ask him." Lyra took her hand and gave it a friendly squeeze. "Some of the squires are coming. Maybe even Leon."

"So?"

Lyra shrugged as she giggled. "But he's the best squire in Camelot and he's your friend."

Gwen felt the heat of a blush coming on. "Yes, he's my friend, but—"

"And Elyan can come, too!"

"Elyan?" Gwen repeated with a smile and then it was Lyra's turn to blush. "Fine, I will tell him about the gathering, but I can't promise if either of us will come. Our mother is not well."

Lyra's gaze softened. "I heard. I'm sorry. She'll get better soon."

"I hope so."

D*f*G

Arthur had a strong distaste for incompetence. Perhaps, the lance was not Alexander's best weapon and his lack of skill with it was apparent; however, did the other boy have to be so clumsy, too? 

Gaius stretched the cloth snugly around Arthur's wrist. "Is it too tight?"

Yes, Arthur thought, but with Mordecai looking on and Alexander in attendance, he only shrugged. "No, Gaius, it's fine. I barely feel it."

"That's remarkable," Gaius said, giving him a fixed look. 

Arthur held in a wince as the physician secured the wrapping. His first injury ever and it occurred on the practice field. What an insult! He wanted a battle scar. A war wound. Something to boast over. Not something that would make Morgana giggle and his father groan. Although he knew that Alexander's clumsiness was not his fault, Arthur could not help but be grievously annoyed by the repercussions of the other boy's failings.

"Can he return to practice tomorrow?" Mordecai asked.

"No," Gaius said. 

Arthur gasped. "But!"

"Your wrist needs proper rest to heal correctly. There'll be other days to wield your sword. The first rule for any well-trained warrior is to know when to stop. Am I correct, Sir Mordecai?"

The seasoned knight nodded and then turned to Alexander. "This is what happens when you're not observant. You injured the Prince."

"I-I'm sorry."

Arthur stared back at him, half tempted to make the boy grovel. Feeling Gaius' stare boring into him, Arthur relented. "Like Gaius said, it will heal."

"How long will Arthur need?" Mordecai asked. "The tournament is in a few weeks."

"He should be ready in plenty of time. A week off should be enough."

Arthur sucked in a groan. The upcoming tournament was the single most important event of his life. It was his first time to compete and he wanted that more than anything. To show his father that he was ready. That he was no longer a boy, but a man. A warrior.

"See you next week," Mordecai said. "You can use the break to strengthen your other arm."

Arthur smiled at the suggestion. "Yes, I'll do that!"

Mordecai led Alexander out of the physician's chambers. Arthur was set to follow when Gaius stopped him.

"You mustn't use your right arm at all. You'll injure it further."

"I won't." Arthur respected Gaius' instruction. He wasn't sure if he would follow it, though.

The next few days passed quickly. Uther instructed Geoffrey to increase his studies. Reading the history of Camelot proved fairly entertaining until one of the servants delivered a bowl of oranges to his chambers. Arthur looked up from the text, saw the vibrant color of sunshine in the bowl, and his thoughts immediately turned from battles and alliances to a pretty girl with a dazzling smile. 

Guinevere.

He closed the book and headed to the fruit. Without thinking, he grabbed an orange with his right hand. The weight was light. His fingers flexed and he could almost taste the juices as the orange squished in his hand. A few days ago, this movement would have hurt. To his pleasure and surprise, he supposed Gaius had underestimated the time required for his wrist to heal. 

Arthur sat at the large wooden table and started to peel the fruit. Again, he thought of the girl. 

Guinevere. 

What lovely name. He was certain he'd never heard it before. To shorten it to Gwen seemed wrong. 

"What am I doing?" 

He set the uneaten fruit aside. Unease filled him. She was a commoner. Thinking of her in this way… She was just a girl. He had seen many of them before. Dressed in finery to appeal to him. Flittering in front of him like butterflies. Giggling when he didn't say anything funny. Smiling when he wished they wouldn't.

Arthur didn't want to think about girls. Like Uther, they had expectations. They wanted things from him that he didn't want to give. Of course, as the prince, he was under no obligation to their giggling, flittering, and smiling, but all of that still left him flustered. At feasts, they tried to corner him. Most of the time Morgana saved him and he was always happy for it. He knew what the girls wanted and it would be easy to take it, but none of that interested him.

Until he saw a vision in orange.

"Stop it," he muttered to himself. 

Pushing away from the table, he decided he'd had enough of his chambers and his lessons. The training field and wielding a sword gave him solace. 

A few days early shouldn't matter. His wrist felt fine. He moved briskly from the castle to reach the armory. If he moved quickly, he could make afternoon training, provided that Mordecai allowed him back on the field. Arthur flexed his wrist. Not a twinge.

The weapons were so impressive. As he walked around, he admired the arsenal that Uther had amassed to protect Camelot. Presently, Arthur was most proficient with the sword, but in time, he would become a master of them all. The older knights took training very seriously and Arthur soaked up their instruction. His father had been a fierce warrior on the battlefield. Arthur had no choice but to continue that legacy.

"What are you doing here?"

The feminine voice startled him. A girl? In the armory? He turned on his heel to face a pair of mocking green eyes.

"Morgana!" he bit out. "What are you doing here? You have no business in here!"

"I have more right to be here than you!" She laughed at his outrage. "You're supposed to be healing your poor little wound."

Baiting. Morgana was an expert at baiting. Arthur clenched his jaw. He wouldn't succumb to her. Not this time. 

"You shouldn't be here," he stated firmly.

"Ooh, you sound like Uther. He would be so proud." 

"Why are you here?" He folded his arms across his chest and waited. She could be such a pest. Like a gnat. 

"Uther told me to come find a sword." She jutted her chin as if defying him to denounce her words.

Arthur hesitated on reacting to the unspoken challenge. "Why?"

"Because I'm getting lessons," she said with a smirk, "and since I can't practice on the field with the rest of you brutes, he's teaching me himself."

"No!"

"Yes!" she said with a cackle. Then before he could stop her, she grabbed his favorite practice sword and escaped through the doors.

Arthur stood still, dumbfounded. He couldn't decide what stunned him more. Uther letting her learn how to wield a sword or the King teaching her himself. 

"But she's a girl," he mumbled. A girl who tormented him and had his favorite sword. "Morgana," he muttered.

The doors opened again. A couple of squires tumbled in. Their conversations ranged from weaponry to knight codes to battles. Then they started to chuckle about girls. 

Girls. Arthur rolled his eyes. 

"Arthur!" Leon greeted him warmly. "You're back."

He nodded in returned. "Yes, ready for battle."

"Just be careful of Alexander," Bors said. "He's a clumsy lot."

He selected a sword and shield and left. Arthur felt Leon watching him and met the older boy's stare with a slight frown.

"What?"

"Um…well…uh…"

"Out with it," Arthur said. "Don't be shy because I'm the Prince. I'm training to be a knight, too."

Leon gave him a faint smile. "Yeah, well, a few of us are going out to the forest tonight."

"Hunting?" Arthur hadn't hunted at night, but he was game for it. It could be great fun and quite a challenge.

"In a way, I suppose," Leon said with a laugh. "Robbie from the lower town is playing music. Some of us are going out to listen."

"To music?" Arthur frowned. "You're breaking curfew to go listen to a minstrel?"

"No, not for Robbie." Leon blushed. "Girls like his flute. With the tournament coming up…" 

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "What girls?"

"Lots of girls," the taller boy said, shrugging. "From all around."

Arthur wondered how to phrase his next question. He really shouldn't ask it. He knew that, but stopping himself… Well, being a prince meant he didn't always have to deny himself.

"Are the girls from Camelot?"

Leon grinned. "Yes, they are. Pretty girls. You should come. It starts at dusk. Will you?"

Maybe Guinevere would be there. Perhaps that was something he had no right to wish for, but the thought pestered him. And if she was there, he could get a better look at her. Up close, she might not be as pretty as he remembered. After a closer look, he could get her out of his mind.

"Yes, I'll come."

"Great!" Leon said. "We'll wait for you outside the gates."

"I'll be there."

D*f*G

Gwen met Elyan at the forge. He was cleaning up after a day's work and since Tom was out on delivery, it was just the two of them. The other workers had already gone for the day.

"Hey, you," her brother said, sweeping her feet with his broom. "Move."

"Sorry," she muttered.

He laughed and she climbed onto a stool to get out of his way.

"You're happy today," she said. 

Elyan's moods seemed to change with the wind. After a day at the forge, she could never tell how he'd return. She knew he was trying to meet their father's expectations, but his trips to the training ground had not decreased. He had just become more discreet.

"It's nice out."

She smiled. "That's what Dad said."

"How was the trip to market?" Elyan put away the broom and started gathering the tools. "Did he haggle ole man Alain?"

"Not this time. His son was at the cart. His prices are always reasonable."

Her brother paused to look at her. "Something happened. I can tell."

She didn't want to confess what she'd overheard. Saying the words aloud made them all too real. Their mother had been sick for quite a while. There were days when she seemed fine and others where her cough consumed her. Being powerless pained Gwen beyond mere words. 

So, she decided not to speak of her father's conversation with Tarran. Instead, she chose a different topic.

"There's a gathering in the forest tonight."

"Yeah?" He hung his leather apron on a hook, blew out the candles, and grabbed the last torch by the door. When Gwen joined him to exit, he asked, "For what?"

"Robbie's playing his flute."

Elyan laughed. "Oh, that kind of gathering."

"What?" she asked.

They stepped outside and he pulled the door closed. As they fell into step together and headed home, he said, "You know. Music."

"Sure, Elyan," she muttered under her breath.

"Who's going?"

"I don't know. I heard some of the squires may come. Maybe Leon."

"Who else?" he pestered, very persistent. "Who told you about it?"

Gwen smiled to herself. Then she gave her brother a sharp nudge with her elbow. "Lyra. She's wearing flowers in her hair."

"So!" Elyan nudged her back, but the crack in his voice made his sister laugh. "What?"

"I shouldn't say."

"Tell me, Gwen!"

"She wants you to come," she confessed.

He stopped short outside their back door. The torchlight displayed the wonder and excitement on his face. 

"She does?"

Gwen couldn't bring herself to tease him. "Yes."

"We should go," he decided. "When are they meeting?"

"At dusk, but Dad won't let us."

"Yes, he will."

"You think so?" She wasn't convinced. Their father could be unpredictable. "I don't know."

"You'll see."

Elyan put out the torch and opened the door. The raised voices of their parents greeted them upon entry. Gwen clutched her brother's arm. He pulled them into the shadows and they listened.

"How dare you have your friend come by to check on me?" Deira said in a harsh whisper. She held tight to her shawl and sat close to the fire. Her back was a rigid line as she refused to face her husband.

"Tarran is our friend, and she cares about you! I care about you—"

"I'm fine. I don't need her tinctures."

"You need something!" Tom said, more forcefully than his children had ever seen him. "You're not well, Deira, and you're not getting better."

"It's just a cold—"

"Woman! A cold?" His voice cracked with emotion as he knelt at her feet. "It is no cold. Must you be so stubborn? The children need you. I need you."

"I know, but…" A coughing fit claimed the rest of her words. 

Tom rose to get her water. Elyan and Gwen left the safety of the shadows. Their father gave them a half smile that didn't reach his water-filled eyes. 

"The stew's ready," he said. "Wash up."

He gave Deira the cup. She sipped and the coughing stopped. At the dinner table, they all tried to pretend like the tension in the room didn't exist. Tom commented on the horseshoes Elyan made for one of the farmer's in the outlying village. He was pleased with his son's work. Deira joined in with compliments on Gwen's seamstress skills and how Lady Angelica beamed over her embroidery. 

But once again, Deira's words were lost to a hacking cough. This time, water couldn't soothe it. When drops of blood sprinkled the palm of her hand and dotted her napkin, Gwen froze. 

Tom reached Deira first. Cradling her in his strong arms, he carried her to their bed. All the while, instructing them to get Gaius.

"Quick!"

Elyan leapt from his chair. Gwen was fast on his heels. They ran through the citadel like urchins, paying little heed to anyone in their way. Once inside they castle, they took care to move briskly but with respect to the physician's chambers. He beckoned them inside after one knock.

"Gaius, our Mum has taken ill!" Elyan said, nearly breathless.

"There's blood!" Gwen cried.

"Deira?" Gaius questioned. He grabbed his container of supplies and followed them. Despite his age and long robes, he kept their pace. "How was she injured?"

"It's the coughing," Gwen said. Her eyes filled with tears. She didn't want to cry, but her father had never gone against her mother's wishes before. Everything felt so urgent. This could not be good.

Gaius took her hand. "I'll see what I can do."

Once they reached the cottage, Tom ushered the physician inside but made Gwen and Elyan remain outdoors. The brother and sister sat on the back stoop, quiet and listening. 

Hours passed. Gaius remained inside and they remained out. Tom brought their bowls of stew to them, but both declined. They were too wound up to eat. He kissed both their foreheads and went back inside. 

After more time went by, Tom returned to the door with an empty pail. "Elyan, would you go to the well and fetch some water?"

"Of course, Dad." He took the pail from his father. Then he looked at Gwen. "Are you coming?"

She shook her head. Leaving the house felt wrong. She needed desperately to stay close by. Elyan nodded as if he understood.

"I'll be right back," he told them.

Gwen watched the flicker of Elyan's torch for a short while as she summoned the courage to ask, "Dad, how is she?" 

"She's resting."

"Can I come in?" 

He patted her shoulder. "Soon." Then he went back inside.

Gwen fought hard against tears. There was no need to cry she told herself. Her mother was fine. It was just coughing. Gaius was there now. He would make her mum well again. He had to.

"Gwen?" 

She squinted into the darkness. Clouds had rolled over the moon and since her mind had wandered a bit, her focus was off. 

A bit of yellow caught her eye. "Lyra?"

"Hello, there! Why are you sitting out here?" her friend asked. "We missed you and Elyan tonight."

"Sorry."

"You should have been there," Lyra continued, as if she hadn't heard Gwen's low mumble. "The squires really did come. Your friend Leon brought the prince! Prince Arthur came to hear Robbie play. You should have seen Holly and Fresca. They were beside themselves. He really is striking up close."

"Really?" Gwen sighed. She looked down at her clenched fingers. 

"Yes, really. Leon asked about you and Elyan. Why didn't you come?"

"Our Mum…" Gwen swallowed hard. It truly hurt to talk. The words just lodged in her throat. She had to force them out. "She took ill real bad. We decided to stay home."

"Oh," Lyra murmured. All at once, she wrapped her thin arms around Gwen. Her unruly, spiral curls brushed against Gwen's face as she hugged her hard. "I'm sorry."

Gwen squeezed her back and let go. "I know. Gaius is with her now."

"He's the best."

Gwen nodded. 

"How's Elyan?" the girl asked gently. "Is he inside?" 

"He's fetching water. He should be back soon."

Lyra shook her head. "Tell him… I… I'll see him another time. I'll check on you tomorrow?"

"Please," Gwen said, "I hope you do."

When Elyan returned, Tom appeared at the door and took the pail from him. Brother and sister huddled close together on the stoop. Hands locked, they waited and tried not to think the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have to warn you where this is headed. Unfortunately, we have to go here to get there. Arthur is smitten, but he's fighting it. Gwen has yet to know he's alive, but that will eventually change. I'm still not sure what's going on with Leon. lol What do you think??? As always, thanks for reading!!!!


	4. No Need for Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friends rally 'round Gwen and Elyan as their mother's condition worsens. Meanwhile. Arthur and friends have a little chat about girls, and he overhears some troubling news.

Chapter Four: No Need for Words

In the wee hours, Tom ushered Gwen and Elyan inside. They wanted to see their mother, but he told them she was resting. When he closed the curtains to separate them from the front room where their parents slept and Gaius was still tending to Deira, Elyan pressed a finger to his lips and beckoned for Gwen to join him on the floor. The thick wool fabric was no match against two pairs of listening ears.

“He’s been here for hours,” Gwen whispered against her brother’s ear. “Surely, he’s helped her.” 

“Gaius is a good doctor. He takes care of King Uther and the knights,” Elyan replied just as quietly. “He healed the Prince of a very bad wound in just days.”

“Just days?” she repeated. “What kind of wound?”

“Well, I saw it myself,” he confided. “He hurt his wrist on the training ground a few days ago. It was pretty bad. Should have had him out at least a week if not two. But he was back this afternoon. Like nothing happened.”

“That’s something,” she said, picturing the injury in her mind. The training ground was rough indeed. If the Prince recovered that quickly under Gaius’ care, certainly the physician could do better for her mother whose ailment was just a cough.

Elyan slid a bit closer. He slipped a finger that separated the curtains in two and slowly tugged them apart. “Come,” he whispered. “Hurry before he checks on us.”

Gwen crawled over to sit with her chin nestled on her brother’s shoulder. Together, they peered through the slit. From their position, the view wasn’t much. The dining table and chairs blocked a good portion of their parents’ bed, so they lacked a clear view of their mother. Then there was their father who paced back and forth, and Gaius who sat on a stool at their mother’s bedside. All in all, though, this was much better than waiting outside with only the stars to look upon while their fears took hold.

“Tom, do sit down,” Gaius said over his shoulder. “Pacing doesn’t help.”

“I don’t know what else to do.”

Gaius stood. He placed a hand on the taller man’s upper arm. “There is nothing else to be done.”

Their father became still as a statue. “What are you saying?”

“I’m sorry, but there is nothing more that I can do for her,” the physician answered. “Blood is in her lungs. The best I can do is help her rest peacefully.”

Tom moved free of Gaius’ hold and squatted beside the bed. “Is she…?”

“No,” Gaius said with compassion, “but you should get the children.”

Tears sprang in Gwen’s eyes. She buried her face in Elyan’s back to keep from crying out. A whoosh of air fanned her as he dropped the curtain. The next thing she knew, her brother was hugging her close. His tears wet her shoulder as he held her tight. Their father found them like that and he too wrapped his arms around them both.

“You were listening,” he said gently. “I don’t blame you for it.” As he rubbed their backs, he added, “If you want, you can see her.”

“Can we talk to her?” Elyan asked.

“Yes.”

“Can she hear us?” Gwen asked.

“Yes,” Tom said, pausing to kiss their foreheads. “And she can answer, but her voice is soft so you’ll have to listen very closely.”

“We can do that.” Elyan took Gwen’s hand like he did when they were small. 

Tom parted the curtains and allowed his children to walk through first. Gwen squeezed her brother’s hand and for once, he didn’t squeeze back hard. He gave her a gentle squeeze. Gaius rose from the stool and Elyan sat down. Gwen chose a spot on the bed. 

At first, her vision was too blurry to make out her mother’s still form, but after a few blinks, Gwen saw that her mother’s dark brown eyes were darting back and forth between her and Elyan. 

“My beautiful babies,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “Both of you. Weren’t they, Tom?”

“Of course,” he said, kneeling between Elyan and Gwen, “they’re your children.”

“And yours,” Deira said with a faint smile. 

Gwen smiled through her sniffles. She’d heard this conversation before. Usually on birthdays, either hers or Elyan’s. It hurt to know she wouldn’t ever hear them say those words to each other again.

“I’m so proud of you,” her mother said to both children. Then she looked at Elyan. “You’re so much alike. That’s why you fight so. All that pride.”

“I’m s-sorry, Mum,” he said, crying. “I d-didn’t mean to.”

“You're fine, Elyan. Strong and proud like your father. And you, Gwennie…you will do great things,” she said. “Follow your heart, Guinevere. Elyan, you too.”

“Mum, please…d-don’t…” Gwen tried to hold back the tears, but she wasn’t strong enough. The harder she fought to keep them inside, the more they poured out. “I love you so.”

“I love you,” her mother whispered, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes. “All of you. Come here.”

Gwen and Elyan curled onto the bed beside her. Although frail, Deira’s embrace felt strong and sure. 

“Be true to your hearts,” she whispered to them as they sobbed against her. “Be true.”

D*f*G

Council responsibilities for Sirs Mordecai and Candor brought an early end to training for the squires. The free time gave the young teens time to tend to their studies, to practice techniques, or to roam. Over the last few weeks, Arthur had gotten to know some of the squires who were his age and had begun to enjoy their companionship. With Morgana, he had to be careful of saying the wrong thing or taking care because she was a girl. Things were different with Bors and Stanwyck. They liked jokes that made girls frown in distaste and both boys could take a punch. 

This was supposed to be Arthur's time to study history with Geoffrey, but he supposed missing one lesson wouldn't matter too much. Besides, he was having too much fun listening to Stanwyck mimic the flute player's song while pretending to not be annoyed by Guinevere's absence. 

"Could you believe all the girls?" Bors said to no one in particular as he leaned against the stone wall of the corridor. "There were so many of them."

"What?" Stanwyck paused in his mimicry to ask. "Where?"

"In the forest last night, turnip head." Bors punched his arm.

Arthur chuckled at their antics. Bors grinned in response. 

"Which one did you have your eye on?" Bors asked.

"Who?" Arthur said.

"You?" Stanwyck piped in. "I saw two who couldn't keep their eyes off you."

"Oh!" Bors chuckled. "I saw them, too. They weren't so bad."

Arthur frowned. He hadn't noticed any girls, not to mention two. His attention had been on locating Guinevere and when she didn't arrive, he didn't care much about anything else. He only stayed until the end because Leon asked him.

"Lyra's a pretty one," Stanwyck said. "Her hair's so…" He gestured wildly with his hands. 

Bors made his own wild, lewd gesture that brought heat to Arthur's cheeks. These boys were not as tamed as Sir Mordecai believed, Arthur thought.

"When Council ends, I have to meet Sir Relinor in his chambers," Bors said and then jutted his chin toward Stanwyck. "What about you?"

"Sir Nelson is expecting me," the other boy replied. He looked at Arthur. "You're lucky you're not a squire. Our work is never done."

"Oh, he has work, too," Bors said. "It's just not like ours. He'll be King one day."

Arthur shrugged. Of course, everyone knew his position. He was Arthur Pendragon, the sole heir of the King and therefore the future ruler of Camelot. Living up to that knowledge had been embedded in him since he could walk and talk. It affected every aspect of his life and how everyone treated him. Except for when he stepped on the training field. There, he felt like he was learning to be a strong fighter just like the rest of them. Given how at ease they felt with him last night, it seemed that his presence as Arthur, a fellow knight in training, superseded his position as the prince.

Then just as quickly as the conversation turned serious, it returned to boyhood interests. The upcoming tournament was on all their minds and the corridor leading to the squires' chambers seemed the perfect place to practice their skills. 

Stanwyck, ever the mimic, gave his impersonation of Alexander, the Clumsy, that had both Arthur and Bors doubled in laughter. Clutching his side, Arthur gasped for breath. It was not good form to laugh at a brother in arms, but Stanwyck was excellent in his portrayal. Together, the boys rounded another corridor only to stop short when they saw Leon and his mother standing outside the older squire's chambers.

Even from a distance, the two seemed engaged in deep conversation. Bors and Stanwyck nudged each other and whispered their leave. Leon, being the older squire, was their superior. If he caught them cutting loose, he could easily report them, so Arthur wasn't surprised by their sudden departure. However, unlike his cohorts, Arthur was free of worry of recriminations by Leon. So he allowed his curiosity to guide him and nothing intrigued him more than interactions between a mother and a son.

Slipping into a nearby alcove with a low-hanging torch to hide his peering face, Arthur watched from afar. Clearly, from Leon's gasping breaths and Lady Angelica's hand on his forearm, his friend was upset. Arthur held himself still to listen to their quiet conversation and find out why.

"Your father didn't want me to tell you," she said. "He said you're a squire for the Court now and not a babe, but… She cared for you, you know?"

Leon sniffled as he nodded. "I know. Thank you for coming, Mother. Elyan said she had a cough. I didn't realize she was so sick."

"None of us wanted to," Lady Angelica said, "least of all Deira. She was at the manor yesterday until I insisted she go home. She was very stubborn."

"But she was nice, too," Leon said.

"Yes," his mother agreed. "Very nice. She was a dear, good-hearted woman."

"How are Elyan and Gwen?" 

She sighed. "They lost their mother. Their hearts are broken."

"You mustn't tell Father, but I have to see them. Tonight. I know he doesn't approve, but they're my friends."

His mother reached up and patted his cheek. Leon's shoulders shook. In the next instant, he and Lady Angelica were locked in an embrace.

Overcome, Arthur couldn't bear to listen anymore or witness their tenderness. Careful of being discovered, he slipped from his hiding place and wandered back to his side of the castle. The bustle of servants was lost on him. If anyone acknowledged him, he did not notice. The closeness of Leon and his mother had reawakened the loss of his own mother, and knowing that the girl, who possessed his thoughts although he'd never spoken to her, now endured the same loss pained him doubly. 

He entered his chambers void of the glee that had filled him while engaging with Bors and Stanwyck. Head down and shoulders slumped, he trudged to the window and stared down into the courtyard, remaining there as afternoon gave way to dusk.

A sharp knock did little to revive him. Morgana's unwelcome entrance also failed to spark his interest. He just sighed and ignored her, hoping she would leave without instruction or demand.

"Arthur!"

"Go away," he said quietly.

"Uther's in a mood and I do not wish to eat alone."

He had nothing to say to that. He could make no promises that his mood would be better or his company more engaging. 

"What's the matter?" She came and stood beside him. "What's so interesting down there?"

"Nothing," he said. "It's the courtyard. You've seen it a thousand times."

He moved away from her to lean against his bedpost. "I'm not having dinner tonight."

"You have to eat!"

"Not tonight."

A wicked gleam danced in her green eyes. Arthur stiffened in preparation. That look never boded well for him. It always led to some serious mischief that got him into trouble with his father.

"The tournament is soon."

"Yes," he said, carefully and with a shrug of nonchalance. The key was to never let Morgana be aware of the success of her little games. Unfortunately, sometimes Arthur failed, as Morgana was much better at this than he. "So?"

"Uther won every category at his first tournament. Every one," she said, emphasizing the words.

Of course Arthur knew this. And he knew that expectations were high for him to accomplish the same. But where Morgana was going with the comparison, he did not have a clue.

"Fasting won't make you fit for competition," she said. "You're quite slight in comparison to Leon de Maris."

"Bah!" Arthur turned his back on her again as she was barely able to contain her giggles. 

"Oh, do eat with me." She tugged on his arm. "I'm only jesting. Don't be a spoilsport."

Arthur considered her words. He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts right now. The weight of them was too heavy and they would only sink him lower. He answered her with a condition.

"We eat in your chambers."

"Very well!" She skipped to the door. "Come on."

Later, Arthur found that sharing a meal with Morgana wasn't the worst thing imaginable. Silence was never allowed. She flittered from one idea to the next. The lack of proper schooling for children in the lower town was her most recent crusade. Uther refused to listen to a word of it, but Morgana gave Arthur an earful.

"It isn't fair that they can't at least learn to read and write. Most know numbers, but reading… They should know how to read," she said, popping a bite of cheese into her mouth.

"What would they need it for?" Arthur didn't necessarily disagree, but as one who was not enamored with his lessons, he saw no reason to force the same on others.

"For information," she said. "For truth. Books are filled with both."

"None of them can afford books."

"That doesn't matter. People should still know how to read," she said. "All people. Not just us."

"Quite a few people in the lower town can read," Arthur argued.

"How would you know?" 

He shrugged. "I hear things. You know how Father is. The more you press him, the less he'll listen."

She nodded. "That's true. If only he wasn't so stubborn."

Arthur bit back a smile. If only both she and Uther weren't so stubborn, he thought. Their arguments amused him. She and his father shared a temperament that clashed like fire at times, but at others, the two could be so loving. He remembered when she first joined them at Camelot. Even then, she was a spirited little girl. He marveled at her responses to the King who indulged and punished with equal whim. Now with the memory of Leon and his mother's conversation fresh in his mind, Arthur wondered how Morgana fared then and now.

"Do you ever think of your mother?"

The lighthearted gleam faded from her eyes like a candle had been snuffed out. Her mouth parted, but several seconds passed before words came out. 

"Yes, all the time."

"So you have memories of her?" Arthur asked. He pushed aside his plate to lean forward and catch her words.

"Of course." Morgana nodded. "I miss how she was before Father died."

"What happened? You never talk about her."

"You've never asked," she said quietly. "Mother changed after we received word of Father's death in battle. She became…unwell."

"That's why you moved here?" Arthur never knew the full reason. One day, it was just him and his father. The next, Morgana was there and it was the three of them.

"She died, you know." Morgana's eyes became bright with unshed tears which she blinked away. "She wanted to, though. She did not wish to go on without Father. It was unbearable."

Her words struck Arthur. "What about you? She had you to care for?"

"She tried," Morgana said, "but it was too difficult."

"You're very forgiving."

"Not really.” She gave him a strained smile. “I've had time to think about it. When I first came, I was angry with her and sad that my father was dead. He and I were very close."

Arthur nodded. He remembered Gorlois. Vaguely. And he remembered how upset Uther had been over his friend's death. So much so that he never wanted to speak of it. 

Morgana's expression softened. It was a look he'd seen a few times when Uther disapproved of something he'd done. The look was often fleeting, but Arthur appreciated the silent understanding.

"Do you think about your mother?"

He nodded. "I never knew her. He won't speak of her."

"I'm sorry."

D*f*G

Mourning friends and family filled the small cottage and spilled out onto the small porch. Their presence was meant to soothe, but for Gwen, it was becoming too much. Too much smiling until her cheeks hurt. Too much biting her lip when she wanted to scream. Too much blinking to keep the tears from falling. Too much holding her tongue when people asked questions that she wasn't ready to answer. 

The burial service had not prepared her for the rest. She had thought seeing the large stones set to mark her mother's final resting place was hard. But it was coming back to their home, now filled with strangers, and knowing that Mum would never be there to greet her with a hug or a warm smile, that was what nearly crumbled her stoic resolve. She wanted so desperately to be strong for her father and for Elyan, but all the people around only reminded her of who was missing. 

After a while, Gwen couldn't take another moment of pretending. She slipped out of the cottage and darted off to the forge. She just needed to catch her breath. Anything to take her mind off the clamor of voices that did not belong to Deira Degrance.

Elyan had already found refuge there. When their gazes locked, he held out his hand. "Come on. They'll find us here eventually."

Without a word, Gwen took her brother's hand and allowed him to lead her. Since their mother's passing, few words had been spoken between the three of them. Their father held them and cried with them, but he seemed at a loss for having the right words to comfort the children. 

In truth, this was the first real loss for Gwen and Elyan. They had never known their grandparents as they died before the children were born. Everyone else was in good health. Losing their mother was unimaginable to them. And even after having lost her, it was still incredibly hard to believe.

Silently, the two siblings traipsed along the familiar path to their favorite pond for frogging. Gwen couldn't remember the last full moon that had shone on them there. Growing up had created new interests and new responsibilities. Frogging had faded as a priority without her realizing it. Being here again among the soothing water and vibrant greenery, she felt a comfort that she hadn't quite felt at home. Elyan stretched out beside the pond and she sat beside him. 

For a long time, they didn't talk. Gwen welcomed the silence. Sometimes with Elyan, words were unnecessary. She could look into her older brother's dark brown eyes and just know that he knew. He understood. The same for him whenever he and Tom disagreed. They had a silent language. When her tears finally started to fall, he simply took her hand.

Afternoon sunshine soon gave way to the pinks and oranges of dusk. Tiny dots of light began to speckle the sky as the stars came into view. Neither child moved. They weren't ready to go back. Experience taught them that the people would remain in their home for hours. And for hours, they would stay away.

Snapping twigs and a gentle sigh alerted them to another's presence. Gwen looked up to find Leon towering over them. She slid over and he sat in the space between the siblings. 

"Mother told me about Deira," he said. "I'm sorry."

He tugged on one of Gwen's stray curls and patted Elyan's shoulder.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Elyan moved into a sitting position. "Won't you miss curfew?"

"I don't care," Leon said. He opened his leather satchel and pulled out bread, cheese, and apples. 

Gwen hadn't thought about food in hours. At the sight of Leon's offerings, her stomach began to rumble. Leon smiled and handed her a hunk of cheese.

"Eat," he said.

Elyan took an apple and Leon pulled apart the bread. They ate. The boys began to talk about training and Gwen listened. Mostly, her thoughts drifted. This—the loss of her mother—was yet another change. So many of them had occurred lately. She was ready for some, but definitely not this. 

A short while later another voice joined the conversation. Lyra, who had joined them at the pond only a few times, had somehow found them, too. She wrapped Gwen in a strong embrace and smiled shyly at the boys. 

"I went by your house,” the other girl said as she settled on the other side of Gwen. “There were so many people."

"Still?" Gwen asked.

"Yes."

"Did Dad notice we were gone?" Elyan asked.

Lyra nodded. "But Tarran was telling him not to worry. Gwen, someone left flowers at your back door. I put them in a vase for you."

"Thank you."

The boys returned to their conversation and Lyra leaned in to whisper. "There was a note."

"What did it say?" 

Being that the girls were such good friends, Deira had taught Lyra how to read the same time she taught Gwen and Elyan.

"'Sorry about your mother.' Here." Lyra slipped the parchment into Gwen's hand. "I didn't know you had a beau."

"I don't." Gwen turned her back to Leon and Elyan so that she could take a look at the note without their teasing or interference. The moonlight provided just enough light for her to make out the finely crafted words. "My name isn't on this. Maybe it's not for me."

"Who would leave flowers for Elyan?" Lyra asked with a frown. "Would someone leave flowers for Elyan?"

"Other than you?" 

Lyra pinched Gwen who smiled in response. "Well, it must be for you."

Gwen shrugged and pocketed the note. "I don't know who it could be."

"Maybe Leon?" Lyra's suggestion brought a frown to Gwen's face. "Why not? He's a squire at Court."

"Because I'm the daughter of a blacksmith and Leon is the son of a nobleman. Besides, he’s my friend," Gwen said. "Nothing more. One of the people at the house probably left it for us as a gesture. It's nice. Mum would have liked that."

"But what if it wasn't just a gesture? What if it was a boy?"

"Really, Lyra. I'm not thinking about boys right now. And if it was a boy, he should have signed his name. He didn't, so it doesn't matter."

"I'm sorry," the other girl said.

"Don't be." 

She linked her arms through Lyra's and they just sat. In time, the boys stopped talking, too. But no one moved other than to shift their positions. No one left. The four sat together, two friends helping siblings mourn their mother. And they remained together until the sun rose the next morning.


	5. Unease, Frustration, and Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big changes are ahead for Gwen and soap isn't safe around Arthur when he's frustrated.

Chapter 5: Unease, Frustration, and Longing 

The weeks after Deira's death brought more changes. Instead of Gwen joining her mother on the trek to the de Maris manor every morning, Gwen now made the journey alone. The familiar path awakened memories every day. Few times she reached her destination with a dry eye. To her relief, no one commented. If Lady Angelica noticed anything amiss, she never made Gwen feel out of sorts or unworthy to take her mother's position as the Lady's personal maid. 

That morning, Gwen remembered Angelica's fondness for lavender. She found a bunch growing wild near the gate and brought them inside. She was arranging them when the Lady came from behind her changing screen. 

"Good morning, My Lady." Gwen resisted the urge to toy with the ties of her tunic. Instead, the inside of her bottom lip received the brunt of her unease.

In truth, the older woman had never been anything but kind to her, but since her mother's death, Gwen had begun to feel awkward. Just the sight of Leon's mother made her fear the threat of tears falling unbidden from her eyes. It was just the gentle woman had always been dear to Deira. They had practically grown up together. Seeing her was a constant reminder that Gwen would never seen her Mum again.

"Those are lovely!" Angelica headed straight to the table. She buried her face in the petals and made a grand gesture of inhaling and exhaling. "Truly divine. I thought I noticed the fragrance while I was changing."

"I'm sorry I'm late," Gwen said quickly.

Angelica patted her cheek. "You're not. I had a restless night so I decided to take care of my own toiletries. I am not completely helpless, you know." She smiled and Gwen returned the gesture. "However, I am not so good with the fastenings in the back and Lord de Maris is all thumbs. Would you?"

"Of course, My Lady."

Gwen relished the moments when Angelica's gaze wasn't locked on hers. Fastening her ties, styling her long, reddish gold hair, and tending to her other needs were more soothing to Gwen's uneven spirit than the quiet moments when all the Lady required of her was to sit or to sew together. 

She remembered many times sitting at her mother's feet while the two women reminisced over girlhood adventures or discussed motherhood issues. She and Angelica had nothing to discuss other than Leon or Deira. Sometimes the Degrance men were topics of conversation. Overall, just the thought of taking her mother's place in this way served to reawaken the wound of her mother's sudden, tragic death. 

"Gwen?" 

"Yes, My Lady?" 

They were now at the dressing table. Gwen enjoyed brushing the silken waves of reddish gold hair, but she hated the mirror that revealed her reflection. She often tried to stand to the side to avoid the honesty of the looking glass, but it would not be denied. Against her wishes, she caught Angelica's purposeful blue-eyed gaze. The look was so intense that she dared not turn away from it.

"I must confess that my restless night was because I could not stop thinking about you."

Gwen's hand grew still. "Have I offended you? I will be on time tomorrow. No, I will be early—"

"Gwenny." Angelica took the brush from her and then held her hands. 

The sound of her pet name, the gentleness in Angelica's eyes, and the soft touch of her hands nearly broke the girl. Tears quickly blurred her vision. She blinked and they slipped down her cheeks. 

"I-I'm sorry," she whispered.

"No, I am." Angelica made room for Gwen on the cushioned bench. When she sat, the Lady handed her a kerchief. "I've been a tad selfish. Deira was so long a part of my life that I thought having you here would help. I never thought it would be too much for you."

"It isn't." The denial was automatic. Although there was truth in her words. Far too much truth for Gwen's peace of mind. She could not help but deny it. To honor her mother's memory, she had to be strong. 

"It is," the other woman said gently. "There are far too many reminders. I know because I feel them, too.

What could she possibly say to that? To deny that would be an outright lie. Besides, there was no point to it. Everywhere was a reminder. Even the brush that rested on the dressing table. And the path that Gwen walked every day. It was almost unbearable.

"I know of a better position."

Gwen looked up from her clenched hands. She was afraid to ask where. As torturous as the memories were, the de Maris manor was like a second home. How could she learn another? Would the family be as kind as Leon's?

"It's in the castle," Angelica said when seconds passed and Gwen remained quiet.

The girl's eyes widened. She shook her head. "No, My Lady…the castle? Would it be in the kitchen? I'm a good cook, but I'm not that good."

"No, the king's ward is in need of a handmaiden."

Gwen frowned. Serve someone so close to royalty that she was the next best thing? What did Gwen know about that? She balked at the mere suggestion. "I wouldn't be right for such a position," she murmured, looking down at her lap.

The Lady tilted her chin. "Your mother would never approve of you having doubts about yourself. You can do anything you set your mind to."

"But the Lady Morgana is so beautiful and she's the King's ward!"

"Morgana," Angelica said firmly, "would be fortunate to have you. There's more to a person than what's on the outside."

"Yes, My Lady."

"Furthermore, she is no more beautiful than you." Angelica patted her cheek softly one last time. "Deira was very proud of you. Between you and me, your mother was no fool. She knew quality. You will do well at the castle. I promise."

Gwen picked up the brush, stood, and resumed styling Angelica's hair. This time, when their gazes met in the mirror, her smile was genuine.

"I will personally make the introductions."

"What if someone else already has the position?" 

Angelica shrugged. "There is no need to fret over that, I assure you. The position is yours if you want it. Do you?"

The girl hesitated. Would saying yes make her appear ungrateful? 

"Your answer will not offend me," the older woman said with kindness. "I believe it will be for the best, but if you truly are not of the same accord, you may stay here."

Gwen glanced around the room. Every object created a flash of memory. At the window, her mother had often stood and watched her, Elyan, and Leon play in the courtyard. The table was where Deira had taught Gwen how to sew. In this room, she sometimes still heard her mother's laughter and she could never be sure if it was real or imagined. The small cottage—home—should have been worse for resurrecting memories of her mother, but it was the de Maris manor that caused the painful constriction of Gwen's chest. The hurt that returned day after day. After weeks of it, she could not face it any longer.

"I would like to try the castle," she said.

Angelica gave her a reassuring smile. "If need be, you may always come back. Understand?"

Gwen nodded. "Yes, My Lady."

D*f*G

Barely months into his fourteenth year and Arthur had already progressed to the next level of training. What he lacked in height in comparison to Leon de Maris, the Prince more than made up in skill. Many of the first year squires kept their tongues in check when Sir Mordecai announced the promotion, but the older teens had a harder time keeping their grumbles confined. Arthur ignored them. He knew the recognition was deserved. With the tournament days away, he relished the opportunity to display his worth to everyone.

Sir Candor called an early end to practice and advised the lower level to tend to the armory while the more advanced group prepared for an overnight expedition that would take place after the tournament. 

Arthur was headed off the practice field when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Where are you off to?" 

"Just studies with Geoffrey," he told Leon with a shrug. "You?"

Leon fell into step beside him. The older squire had the most amiable disposition of all the squires. Arthur often wondered what kind of knight he'd make considering his friendly nature. Then, he'd remember Leon's close relationship with Guinevere and his generous opinion of Leon would fade. He really had no right to feel this way about a girl he had never spoken to, he told himself often. Leaving flowers for her did not give him any privileges either. Yet, the occasional sight of her chatting with Leon on the edge of the training field always rattled him some. 

"The tournament site is nearing completion. I thought I'd go have a look. Want to come?" 

Arthur nodded as he sheathed his sword. At a distance, his newest manservant followed a few paces behind. It annoyed him to always have a constant shadow. And if he whispered, "Bah!" the poor sap would jump from his skin. Arthur did his best to ignore the latest bumbler and return his attention to Leon's conversation.

"The rumors about the night excursion are numerous," the gangly squire said. 

"What have you heard?" Arthur asked.

"Some say we'll have to hunt down a wild boar and whoever returns with its head will be named the captain of the guard."

"The head of a boar?" Arthur scoffed. If that were so, wouldn't they have seen or heard tell of it from the previous squires to have faced the challenge.

"You do not believe it's so?"

"No."

By this time, they had reached the lower field that would house the tents for the visiting participants. The shouts of workmen reached them from the construction of the new arena. Erected in honor of the King's birthday, expense was not a consideration. Representatives from all the neighboring four kingdoms would be in attendance and Arthur knew that his father was determined to make sure that they would remember Camelot well.

"Who are you escorting to the feast?"

Arthur stopped short. "What?"

"To the feast? It's customary for our level to serve as an escort," Leon explained. "Of course, you may do as you wish—"

"Who are you bringing?" Arthur blurted out, his hand clutching the hilt of his sword without thinking.

Leon frowned He was completely unaware of Arthur's intense interest in his answer. "I'm not sure."

"Is there someone?" Again, the words came before Arthur could stop them. 

"I suppose, but I doubt if she would accompany me." Leon laughed it off as if it didn't matter. "Would you like to spar for a bit? We have a lot of room here and there's no one about to get in the way."

"Yes," Arthur said. "I would."

They came together. Blade to blade. Arthur charged forward and kept coming. Leon barely had a moment to catch his breath. When it was over, Arthur's frustration at being stuck in a role that he didn't understand and longing for someone he didn't even know had very slowly begun to shrink. Confusion was not a sentiment he adjusted to well and he knew it was one his father considered weak. He had to come to grips with this incessant longing one way or another!

As his breathing returned to normal and his usual disposition returned, he remembered that Leon and Gilbert, the manservant were also present. Heat filled Arthur's face as he met Leon's bewildered expression.

"Have I offended you, Sire?" the older squire asked.

The single question acknowledged the severity of Arthur's temper. Embarrassment warred with shame and guilt. He sheathed his sword and held out his hand. Leon's hesitation didn't come as a surprise. Arthur had turned a fun match of sparring into an all-out attack. When the other boy finally grasped his forearm, Arthur felt an inward sigh of relief go through him.

"I'm Arthur, and no, you haven't offended me. I..um…I…enjoy the battle, I suppose."

Leon chuckled as they parted. "I'll have to remember that next time."

The two parted ways inside the castle. With Gilbert fast on his heels and Arthur in desperate need to be alone to think, he assigned numerous cleaning tasks to his manservant. None of them required the other boy's presence in Arthur's chambers! But first, he ordered a bath and then solitude. 

Once alone, Arthur disrobed and sunk into the steaming hot water. Despite the quick little promise to himself on the field after the embarrassing sparring match, his thoughts drifted to the girl. Again. Guinevere. He could not get her name out of his head. Thank the heavens above that he had no cause to see her or speak to her. 

Leaving the flowers and note after her mother's death had been a dreadful risk. He had no idea how he would have explained himself if he had been caught. But after his talk with Morgana and knowing the depth of loss after never knowing his own mother, Arthur could not let the event pass without doing something. Even if Guinevere never knew it was he that had done it.

"For the love of Camelot," he muttered sarcastically under his breath. 

Of course she'd never know it was Arthur Pendragon, he thought as he vigorously rubbed a bar of soap across his arms and chest. She was a just a girl in the lower town and he was the future king of Camelot! If not for Leon de Maris training as a knight, Arthur would never have cause to see the beautiful vision let alone know of her plight. 

The thought of Leon nearly made him curse. In fact, he came close to throwing the soap clear across the room, but with so much grime and dirt on him from the day's training, Arthur had no choice but to reconsider.

But Leon… Who was he escorting to the feast? Would it be Guinevere? Would the son of a nobleman—a knight in training—be so bold as to escort the daughter of a blacksmith to the King's birthday feast? 

And just like that, Arthur's ire and frustration were reawakened. The soap hit the stone wall with a loud thud and split into several wet pieces across the floor.

D*f*G

The clink of spoons finding the bottom of bowls and the gulp of water or mead being swallowed had replaced the pleasant sounds of conversation around the Degrance dinner table since Deira's death. Several times, Gwen had started to share her news but her throat had constricted when she noticed the empty place that had belonged to her mother. Every time, it happened until finally she pushed her bowl aside and clenched her fingers together in her lap and hoped for the sensation to pass.

While she waited, the silence was broken. Tom, who also seemed to work very hard to avoid the empty chair and table setting, gave both of his children a big smile. "We had quite a day at the forge today, didn't we, Elyan?"

"I suppose," Elyan mumbled. He tore his bread into bits and dropped it into the stew. He, too, was doing everything imaginable to avoid Deira's space at the table opposite their father's.

"Ah, he's being modest, Gwen," their father said. "We were in a rush. If he hadn't been there, we wouldn't have made it."

"Sam and Cas—"

"Are good workers, true," Tom said, cutting him off, "but their workmanship doesn't compare with yours. You're truly becoming a blacksmith."

Gwen looked at her brother for his reaction, but she was unable to decipher the dull expression on his face. Why didn't it please him to hear their father's praises? They had been at odds for so long. Surely, this was good news. 

"That's good, Elyan," she said with a small smile. 

"Indeed it is!" Tom pushed aside his plate as he continued. "Even better, Lord Merriman personally spoke of your good work. He's requested that you do the next order."

"A special request from a nobleman," Elyan said quietly. "Imagine that."

"It doesn't happen everyday," Tom stated. 

The constant flow of words made it much easier for Gwen to join in. Her brother's eyes began to lighten. His responses sounded only slightly less forced, not that their father seemed to notice, but Gwen did. 

As their father filled their tankards with more water and his with mead, she decided now was the time to try again.

"There's a new position at the castle," she said. "Lady Angelica thinks I'll be a good match as handmaiden for King Uther's ward."

"The Lady Morgana? She's so…" Elyan all but sputtered his water across the tabletop. "You'll be her personal servant?"

"You'll leave the de Maris household?" Tom asked. "Has Angelica found a problem with your work? I can't imagine that she would. Deira's family has worked for hers for years. They practically grew up together. You're the image of your mother and she taught you very well. I can vouch for that. I will speak with Angelica myself—"

"No, Dad," Gwen said. 

"But Gwen—"

"No, please," she said, a slight tremble in her voice. "Please do not."

"Did something happen?" Elyan asked with an edge. 

"Well?" her father persisted when she hesitated. 

The unwavering focus on her was discomforting. She couldn't remember ever being the center of this much male attention even though it was only her father and her brother. Dare she tell them the real reason? But honesty had been so ingrained in their upbringing that Gwen could not see a way around it. Yet, she hated the thought of hurting them.

"It's hard," she confided softly.

Elyan pulled his chair around to sit beside her. "What is?"

"Going there everyday. Even walking there," she said. "Everything reminds me of Mum. Even Lady Angelica. I thought I could bear it, but I can't. I'm sorry, Dad."

"I'm sorry," he said as she began to cry. He took her hand and tugged. "Come here. You're not too old, yet." She sat on his lap like she did when she was a little girl. Her face burrowed against his strong neck. He hugged her tight. "I hadn't thought about any of it and I should have. It is too much."

"I really did try." The tears subsided and she wiped her face. "Really, I did."

"I know and I'm proud of you for it." He kissed her cheek. "A Degrance in the castle! No one in my family has ever worked for royalty before. And look, it's the wee one. Our little Gwenny."

"Oh, Dad." 

That night, life slowly returned to the small Degrance cottage. The sadness that had taken hold would not fully be pushed aside, but they began to remember that Deira wanted more for them than their tears at her absence. 

When the quiet settled in for sleep, Gwen heard rustling coming from her brother's bed. A moment later, a balled sock landed near her head. She rolled over to confront him.

"Hey!"

"Were you sleep?" he whispered from the other side of the room.

"I can't," she answered. "Lady Angelica is coming for me in the morning and I can't stop thinking about it."

"The castle, Gwen," he said with a hint of reverence in his whisper. "What do you think about working there? I mean really. Not the smiles and happy you gave Dad. The absolute bare truth for me?"

Gwen smiled to herself. They always saved the absolute bare truth for each other. Even when it hurt. But only when they were alone and out of earshot of their parents. 

"I'm scared, Elyan. The castle is so big. It's much bigger than Leon's house. I know I'll get lost. Then there's Lady Morgana. I'll be tending to her. Just me. She's practically a princess. What do I know about a princess?"

"Morgana will be lucky to have you."

"That's what Lady Angelica said."

"It's true," Elyan said. "Besides Leon will be there."

"He's a squire, training to be a knight," she argued. "I'll never see him. When I do, he won't be the same. I'm just a servant—"

"You're never just anything, Guinevere Degrance," Elyan snapped. "Don't ever say that."

She hugged her pillow to her chest. "You know what I mean."

"I know Mum would never want you to think like that. She never did."

They became quiet. Gwen considered her brother's advice. It was true. Their mother was very strict about having a proper opinion of one's self. She always encouraged Gwen in the quality of her mind despite many who challenged women's thoughts and opinions. Even their father believed the same. Teaching them to read had only been one example of Deira's firm convictions. She often said that she and Tom might not be able to leave them a vat of treasures, but they could bequeath them a wealth of wisdom.

"You'll have a better view of the tournament," Elyan said.

"Bah!" Gwen mumbled, half asleep. 

Elyan chuckled. "Maybe you'll become friends with Prince Arthur."

"I'm not so sure about that."

"Leon says the Prince isn't so bad. He tells everyone to call him Arthur."

"That's different, I suppose." She was just about to drift off when she remembered something. "Why did you go on about Morgana?"

"When?"

"At the table. When I first mentioned the new job," she said. "Does Lyra know about this?"

She burst into quiet giggles and he scoffed. 

"Morgana is a pretty girl. I'm not blind, you know!"

"Lyra doesn't know about this," Gwen said, enjoying the opportunity to tease her brother.

"And you better not tell her. Besides, there's nothing to tell. Morgana will never know my name. And Lyra… She's a special one," he said. "Promise me, Gwen, that you won't tell her. I don't want her to be hurt."

Gwen smiled to herself. "I won't tell."

"Thanks, sis."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos!


	6. New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen has her first day at the castle. She and Arthur meet for the first time.

Chapter 6: New Beginning

Gwen woke up hours before the neighbor's rooster announced the arrival of a new day. Slumber could not compete against her concern and excitement about her new position. To be the handmaiden of King Uther's ward—her mother had always promised greatness was in Gwen's future. Perhaps, this was it. 

The shuffle of footsteps came from the other side of the curtain. She glanced at her brother. Elyan still lay sound asleep as their father moved about in the other room. Gwen clutched the covers to her as she listened to the sounds of a fire being made in the hearth and a pot of water being put on to boil. She knew that her father tried to quiet, but the sounds were clear enough that she could close her eyes and see his exact movements.

She must have fallen asleep because when she opened her eyes again, Elyan's bed was made and her father stood at the curtain with a wrapped package in his hands. 

"Dad! Am I late?" 

"No, it's early still. Elyan's gone to start the fires at the forge." He stepped forward and handed her the package. "I wanted to give you this before you dressed."

She sat up and ran her hands over the carefully wrapped gift. "What is it?"

"You'll see when you open it." 

Gwen didn't know what to think. Her parents remembered birthdays and the Winter Solstice, but otherwise, extravagant gifts were rare. It wasn't because the Degrances didn't believe in it. They simply couldn't afford it. Gwen couldn't imagine how or why her father had chosen to do something like this now.

"Gwennie, open it!"

She nodded and quickly removed the parchment wrapping. The first thing she noticed was green fabric. Then the beautiful flower trim came into view. The detailing was intricate and precise. She recognized the workmanship immediately.

"Mum made this," she said, holding the tunic up before her. "Mum made this for me?"

"It was to be for your birthday," Tom said, "but I didn't want to wait. Today is special. I think Deira would understand."

"Thank you, Dad!" 

Gwen saw her father through a blur of tears. Yet, that didn't stop her from hugging him with all her might. He kissed her forehead before the embrace ended. After he left her to get dressed, Gwen chose a white blouse to complement the beautiful green tunic. A small looking glass gave her a view of the vision she created, but somehow, it didn't look right with the braids she usually wore. She grabbed her brush from the mantel and sat on her bed. Today, she'd let her curls hang loose. 

While she brushed her hair, a knock sounded at the front door. Her father answered the door. She heard him greet Lady Angelica and invite her inside. 

"Good morning, My Lady," he said. "Gwen will be ready soon."

"Don't rush her," she said. "I'd like to speak with you if you have a moment."

"Of course." 

Gwen listened as the chairs scraped across the wooden floor. She moved closer to the curtain, careful not to disturb lest she was discovered. As she listened, she brushed her hair and finished getting ready.

"I wanted to speak with you, too. Working in the castle is a quite a responsibility. Many wait for years to have the opportunity. Are we sure our Gwennie is ready for this now?"

"She is more than ready," Lady Angelica said, "and I fear that replacing Deira is not right for her. She's too considerate of others to admit how much being in my home bothered her."

"I know. No one can ever accuse her of being selfish," her father said. "What of the Lady she will be serving?"

Angelica snickered. "She's hardly a Lady. Morgana is little more than Gwen's age. She's headstrong, but she will be gentle. I'll see to that."

"Thank you, Lady Angelica."

"Your gratitude is unnecessary, Tom." 

As the chairs scraped across the floor once again, Gwen left the safety of her room and joined the adults. They greeted her with smiles.

"Your hair…is down," Lady Angelica noticed. "You look so much like your mother."

"I was thinking she does at that," her father said. "Exactly like Deira at that age."

"Gwen!" Elyan's shout reached her as the back door slammed shut. He reached her in a huff. A bunch of wildflowers were tightly clutched in his hand. "Here! For your first day."

"Thank you." She inhaled the fresh scent. They smelled heavenly. She wouldn't be able to keep them with her while she worked, but maybe a couple of blossoms in her hair would be a nice reminder. 

"That looks pretty in your hair like that," her brother said. "You look pretty."

She smiled. Three of the closest people in her life were there and all had faith in her. As she began her first trek to the castle with Lady Angelica by her side, Gwen's misgivings faded. She was a hard worker and a fast learner. She would do well in the castle. She had nothing to fear.

D*f*G

Arthur was restless. A hard day of training usually guaranteed a good night's sleep, but not so last night. Long before Morgana came knocking on his door in the middle of the night, tormented by one of her wild dreams, he had laid awake unable to quiet his mind or quell the listlessness that stirred him. While his body moved at the appropriate times for Gilbert to dress him, Arthur's thoughts returned to the unexpected interruption of the night before.

The knocks were sharp, quick, and frantic. He wondered if Bors or Stanwyck had come for a midnight adventure. If so, he'd have to decline. A prank on one of the younger squires was fun, but Arthur simply wasn't in the mood. By the time he reached the door, it took him a moment to register that Morgana stood on the other side. He stood stunned until she pushed herself inside his chambers.

"Morgana!" he said in a shocked whisper. "Whatever are you doing?"

"Arthur, it seemed so real." Tears streamed down her face. "I don't know…"

"Don't know what?" He took her by the elbow and led her to a chair. "Sit down. Tell me what happened. Where were you?"

"In my ch-chambers-"

"Was there an intruder?" He stood quickly, eager to act and defend her honor.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I was asleep. It was a dream. It started off pleasant enough. It was happy. You were in there. You were very happy. I've never seen you such good humor. Then when the dream became about me… I wasn't happy at all. It was dark and scary. I called for you, but you weren't there."

"I'm right here," he said. "It was just a dream. We all have nightmares."

"It wasn't just a nightmare! It was different. It felt real."

"Morgana," he said, gently, "you came and here I am. It's not dark and scary in here."

She began to shiver. He rose and took a cloak from his wardrobe and wrapped it around her. 

"Thank you." She wiped her eyes. "Sorry for waking you."

"You should be." He bit back a smile, but she saw it anyway.

"You weren't sleep."

"Not yet."

"Are you worried about the tournament?" 

He frowned. "Of course not."

"Then you must be thinking about who will let you escort them—"

"Bah!" Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm not a girl."

Morgana laughed. "You could have fooled me."

"Good night, Morgana." 

"I suppose I should go back to sleep now," she said, all traces of laughter vanished. 

"You'll be fine." He walked her to the door. "You'll see."

"Maybe you'll sleep, too."

He nodded, but he wasn't convinced that it would come so easily. 

"Tomorrow will be a good day, Arthur, for both of us," she said. "You'll see."

As far as Arthur was considered, Morgana had yet to be proved right. The day had barely started, but Arthur wasn't eager for it to begin. He rarely had sleepless nights. Usually, he'd drift off as soon as crawled between the covers. A sleepless night guaranteed a fitful day. Sir Candor would not respond well if Arthur was not in top form on the training field, and the last thing he wanted was for his father to receive that report. 

During his musings, Gilbert left to get his breakfast. The young man returned with a tray laden with fruit, cheese, rolls and boiled eggs. All of Arthur's favorites and nothing he wanted at the moment. He turned away from the small feast and turned his attention to the courtyard. Behind him, Gilbert made a tentative gesture of clearing his throat.

"Sire, I have a message from the King."

Arthur dreaded to hear what wrong he'd committed now, but he couldn't show that cowardice in front of a servant. He squared his shoulders and muttered, "What was it?"

"Your training is canceled. You and he are hunting—"

"Today?" He turned quickly from the window. "Who else is joining us?"

"Just Tresor and myself, I suppose, Sire," Gilbert replied. "He didn't say. Rather, Tresor did not inform me. I didn't know to ask. I could find him and—"

"No," Arthur said, "it doesn't matter."

"The King wants to see you in the Throne Room before we leave."

Arthur rolled his eyes. Why didn't Gilbert begin the conversation with this information? "I expect my horse and my weaponry to be ready for departure."

"Yes, Sire."

Hunting expeditions with Uther Pendragon often proved to be unpredictable. Arthur loved spending time with his father. Nothing made him happier than seeing his father's eyes light with pleasure. Especially if Arthur was the cause of it. On their last hunt, Arthur killed a pheasant with the first draw of his crossbow. Uther beamed with pride and Arthur had felt a mixture of glee and relief at his father's response. Then on his next draw, Arthur missed and the King's wrath came swift and fierce. As fitting a King, Uther's hadn't said a word, but his demeanor changed. His disappointment came with his barked orders and jerky, hurried movements. Arthur wanted to crawl into a hole. The hunt came to an end then and there and Arthur promised to aim better next time.

He left his corridor with the intent of pushing thoughts of their last hunt from his mind. Since then, he had become better with the crossbow. His aim was unmatched. Who else in his age group could kill a chicken at 100 paces? A pheasant would hardly be a challenge. 

Up ahead, he saw Leon's tall form walking behind his mother. As Arthur drew closer, he noticed a flash of green and dark brown curls. Could it be Guinevere? he wondered. The trio was a few doors from Morgana's chambers. Although Uther was waiting, he had to know if his eyes had deceived him.

D*f*G

Gwen would never forget the surprise on Morgana's face upon her arrival. Leon stood on one side and Lady Angelica claimed the other. The young girl's face had grown hot as Lady de Maris extoled her virtues. She would do her best to live up to the Lady's high expectations. Leon remained quiet through it all, but his smile and presence offered untold encouragement. 

Upon their exit, Morgana wasted no time in pouncing with commentary and questions.

"Escorted by nobility!" Morgana giggled as she clapped her hands. "I've never seen that before. Uther would die a thousand deaths if he had witnessed it."

"I…um…" 

Gwen considered apologizing, but decided against it. She had done nothing to be sorry for. Instead, she looked around the room. The ward's chambers were stately. Most of the Degrance cottage could fit inside the room. The bed was made of the most solid wood and the finest workmanship. And the linens! She knew they would be soft to the touch. Far softer than anything in the de Maris manor. 

"Where would you like for me to start?"

"Nowhere!" Morgana rose from her bedside bench to stand before Gwen. She looked her over from head to toe. "My, you are a pretty one. Look at the embroidery on the tunic. Such skill! Did you make this yourself?"

"My Mum," she said, proud. "She was a seamstress."

"Was?"

"Yes, she passed away not too long ago," Gwen said quietly.

"You poor dear." Morgana stepped closer. The teasing light that had been in her eyes died. Compassion shone in its place. "Were you close?"

"She was my Mum," she stated. 

"Of course." Morgana took her wrist and tugged. "Have you ever been inside the castle before?"

"Never." 

"Come!" The other girl pulled her toward the door. "You will not believe your eyes!"

Gwen had not expected this whirlwind of energy. Lady Morgana was not cold and aloof, but friendly and open. Gwen had not imagined being so warmly accepted. She wanted to remember everything to tell Elyan and Lira. They wouldn't believe her. She could hardly believe it all herself. 

Morgana opened the door and Gwen was further shocked. To be honest, she hadn't thought about this part at all. Meeting the Prince or even the King, yet there stood Prince Arthur. Bright blue eyes stared back at her and she couldn't ignore his shiny flaxen-colored hair. He seemed to be at that stage where he was leaving boyhood and growing into a young man. He was tall, of course. Easily as tall as Elyan. His shoulders filled his dark blue tunic very nicely, indeed. She knew he spent a great deal of time on the practice field, but it was more than obvious by the way he held himself. So erect, and true. At the slight parting of his full lips her heart started to race. Her friends said he was handsome, but she had no knowledge of that until now. The future king truly was breathtaking.

"Arthur!" Morgana took command of the conversation immediately. "Why are you lurking outside my chamber?"

"I'm hardly lurking," he snapped, fixing his sharp gaze onto Morgana. 

"Maybe you don't understand the definition of the word."

"I have a clear understanding," he said. 

Morgana laughed. "Come on, Gwen. We have an adventure awaiting us."

"An adventure?" Arthur asked as he fell into step beside Gwen who walked between them.

"Yes, I'm showing my new handmaiden the entire castle. From top to bottom. All of your hiding spots. Every nook and cranny. We're uncovering everything."

Gwen blushed at Morgana's candor. She knew better than to intrude in their private battle. She had engaged in enough battle of wills with Elyan to know the rules of this game. Besides, servants were invisible. She had learned that a long time ago.

"Perhaps, Gwen…is it?" he asked, his voice deeper near her ear.

"Guinevere, Sire," she said, "But, Gwen is fine, too."

"Guinevere," he said, pausing as their gazes caught. When Morgana coughed, Arthur blinked and took a step back. "perhaps, Guinevere, is not interested in your adventures."

"She has to learn the castle," Morgana piped in. "This will be great fun. Why don't you join us? Or are you slaying dragons on the practice field again?"

"Dragons!" Gwen pressed a hand to her mouth as soon as the word escaped. She knew better than to speak unless spoken to. She shouldn't have let herself get so caught up in their play.

Arthur, who looked ready to slay Morgana only moments before, suddenly smiled. "The tournament's coming up."

Gwen would not allow herself to make the same mistake twice so she allowed a nod to suffice as a response.

"Well? Are you coming with us or not?" Morgan blew out an impatient breath.

"No, Father and I are hunting today." His eyes widened and his face grew pale. "Oh! I must go!" 

He spun on his boot heels and raced down the corridor away from them. Gwen and Morgana followed at a slower pace. As Morgana pointed out various chambers and corridors, Gwen's thoughts drifted back and forth between the present conversation and the one that just ended. In particular, the way Arthur Pendragon said her name. 

Gods, Guinevere had never sounded so beautiful and special before. A tiny smile played at the corners of her mouth every time she thought of it. Perhaps working at the castle would be the biggest adventure of all.


	7. Hearts Aflutter

Gwen found Elyan at the tournament grounds. Within a few days, workmen had transformed the lower field into a majestic feast for the eyes. Colorful tents adorned the green landscape. Every day people came in from neighboring villages to set up camp in preparation of the festivities. Gwen couldn't remember the last time the area buzzed with so much excitement. She supposed everyone was anticipating the Prince Arthur's first time participating in the events.

Similar to the other spectators, her brother could not tear himself away. After leaving work, she walked past the lower field just in case she'd find Elyan there. She wasn't surprised when she saw him leaning against a tree with an intent look in his eyes. If their father caught him there, Tom would be furious. Their battles had just started to settle down. She feared them going at it again and what it would mean to her family.

She circled around Elyan and approached him from behind.

"You can't keep running off like this," Gwen said. She stared at the broad expanse of her brother's back, so like their father's. "It doesn't make it better."

"You don't understand…" He didn't bother to face her.

"Why?" Her shoulder's squared subconsciously. "Because I'm a girl?"

"No," he said, turning suddenly to face her, "because you're not the oldest. You don't have the same expectations thrust upon you. Father expects so much from me."

"Because he knows you can do it."

Elyan shook his head. He gave one last longing glance at the field before jutting his chin toward the path home. Gwen fell into step beside him. Her empty basket for gathering herbs swung between them. 

"He wants me to be just like him," he said, a tortured expression on his face. One that Gwen had never seen before. "He wants me to toil in that hot forge like him for the rest of my…"

"But you're good, Elyan," she said, bolstering a light-hearted tone that sounded off once it was heard. "You really are. That last sword you made…even Father was impressed."

Something akin to fear flashed in her brother's dark eyes. His voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "I know." He drew in a quick breath and then reached out to squeeze her shoulder. "How is it in the castle? Mother would be so proud of you."

"Elyan—"

"She always said you were destined for greatness, and look at you." He gently cuffed her chin. "Almost all grown up."

"I am grown up."

"Not quite," he said with a laugh, "but you're getting there. Tell me. Are they treating you well? You haven't said a thing about it since you started. How are the lovely Lady Morgana and the great Prince Arthur?"

"I don't have to call them Lady or Prince." She bit back a smile at the thought of her first meeting with Arthur. She still got goosebumps whenever he said her name. No one said it quite like him.

"And?" Elyan nudged her. 

They were closer to town. Markets were up ahead and their father's forge was nearby. Both made sure not to look in that direction. 

"And what? It's work. I mend Morgana's dresses and tend to her needs. It's like what Mum did for Lady Angelica."

"But you're in the castle. That's not the same as Mum."

Gwen sighed. He and Dad were always going on about the castle. She didn't like being reminded how big it was or how close to royalty she worked every day. They were people. The same as everyone else. When she witnessed the bickering between Morgana and Arthur, she realized that deep down they truly were no different than the rest of them. Sure they had titles, land and authority, but that didn't make them extraordinary. At heart, they were still people.

"You can't truly say that the Pendragons are the same as the deMaris family. Leon is nothing like the great, royal prince!"

"Elyan, please!" Gwen elbowed her brother hard. "No, of course not. I would never say that."

"Well?" her brother persisted. "Just tell me that they're being good to you."

"Yes, Morgana is sweet."

He laughed. "Sweet? She looks like a real spitfire."

"She can be with Arthur, but she and I get on quite well. She thinks everyone in lower town should know how to read—"

"Does she know that Mum taught you?" he asked, stopping suddenly to search her eyes.

"No, I didn't say one way or the other."

"Be careful," he said. 

He seemed on the verge of saying more but then Lyra appeared. His entire expression changed. The sternness in his face vanished. His brown eyes softened. A ready smile appeared and Gwen could have sworn that his shoulders grew wider. 

She pressed her hand to her mouth to keep a chuckle at bay. It came as no surprise to her to witness the flush on Lyra's tawny cheeks upon Elyan's perusal. Her wild curls again refused to be tamed, but they looked pretty as they flew in disarray around her friend's face. Teasing them about their feelings used to be fun. Now, it was still fun, but she also anticipated watching them. They were so sweet around each other. Their father used the word smitten and Gwen thought it an accurate description for her brother and her best friend.

"Hello, Gwen!" Lyra said. She cast a shy smile at Elyan and greeted him as well. She too carried an empty basket. "Are you ready?"

"Hello, Lyra," Gwen said.

"Ready for what?" Elyan asked.

"We're gathering herbs for Tarran," Lyra said.

"Where?"

"In the Darkling Woods," Lyra replied. "There's a good patch that Tarran likes. We bartered with her."

"Did you?" he asked. "I hope she didn't cheat you. She can be a tough one."

There, Gwen thought, that was the easy, relaxed Elyan that she liked. She was just about to ask him to come with them when a loud, booming voice broke the mood.

"Elyan!" 

Their father appeared from nowhere. He stood a few yards away near the township stables. One hand on his hip and the other hand waved frantically. Elyan groaned and Gwen wished there was something she could do.

"Maybe I'll see you at the tournament," he said, moving slowly in their father's direction.

Lyra's smile was bright and filled with promise. "I hope so!"

The journey to the woods was filled with conversation. Gwen decided not to mention her brother unless Lyra did. She didn't have to worry about that because Lyra was filled with questions about the castle. Same as Elyan!

"It's just a place!" Gwen exclaimed. 

They knelt together near the patch. Their baskets were over half full so they had paused to rest. Soon they'd have to return home for the evening meal. 

"I know it's a place," Lyra said, "but it's been over a week. I hardly see you anymore."

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't say that." Her friend took her hand. "I just miss you. You're in that great big place meeting great big people. Tell me what they're like. Is Morgana a shrew?"

"No, she's really very nice."

Lyra frowned. "Are you sure?"

"She has been so far, and she hasn't had to be."

"What about the prince? All the girls in lower town are envious of you. He's so handsome."

They both giggled.

"They have no reason to be jealous. It's a job."

"That's what I tell them," Lyra said. "So, is he a brut? He looks like a bully."

Gwen laughed. "You have them all pegged, don't you?"

Her friend shrugged. Then she laughed. "Well, are they?"

"I suppose they're—"

"Gwen?" Leon stood at the end of the clearing. His red cloak was draped over his shoulders and he had a sword in his hand. "What are you doing out here?"

"We're gathering herbs," she said, dusting the grass off her skirt from where she'd been kneeling. She nodded toward her friend. "You remember Lyra."

He nodded and smiled. "I'm on patrol." He looked around. "Is Elyan with you?"

"He's with Dad."

A telltale hint of red dotted his cheeks. "It isn't good for you both to be about alone. I'll be your escort."

Gwen tried to ignore Lyra's hard nudge, but she couldn't fight the sudden heat that inflamed her cheeks. She murmured, "Thank you."

"My pleasure." Leon moved to Gwen's side so that she was between her two friends. He then peered into her basket. "What do you have there?"

"Licorice root, guelder rose, and ginger."

"The chasteberry is over there," Lyra said. "I'll be right back."

Gwen gathered a few basil leaves to add to her collection and Leon lingered at her side. When she straightened, she noticed that he was looking at her in a way that he never had before.

"Are you attending the tournament with Lady Morgana?"

"I am." 

He smiled. "I suppose I'll see you there. And at the King's birthday feast, too?"

She nodded. "I'm not sure about the feast. Dad likes me home before dark."

He reached inside his cloak and pulled out a yellow ribbon, which he handed to her. "If you come…this would look pretty in your hair."

Stunned, she simply murmured, "Thank you."

D*f*G

Arthur could think of several more places he'd rather be than in the dining hall having dinner with his father and Morgana. The morning's training session had not gone well at all. He hadn't been able to focus, and Sir Candor had made sure that Arthur knew it. Then instead of joining Leon on patrol, he was forced to spend the afternoon in the dank, dust-filled dwellings of Geoffrey. Under the man's keen eye, he couldn't hide that he was behind on his studies. Arthur could only hope the fidgety scholar wouldn't report Arthur's negligence to the King.

"The opening ceremony will be splendid this year," Uther announced, reaching for his goblet of wine. "Performers from each of the Five Kingdoms will entertain and the best and strongest will compete. This tournament will be remembered for centuries."

Morgana kicked Arthur under the table. He grunted in reply. Of course, Uther noticed.

"You must remember to present yourself as the future heir to the throne," his father said. "You're not a child anymore."

"I know, Father."

"Your behavior calls that statement into question," Uther snapped. "You mustn't ever forget that you are the heir apparent. You certainly must not forget when you step into the arena."

Arthur stared down at his plate. Across from him, he sensed that even Morgana's teasing had been quashed. She sat still in her chair as if she too was being chastised. 

"You represent more than yourself," Uther continued. "You represent Camelot and your future reign. If you fail in your first tournament, it will be remembered. That failure will follow you."

Arthur slumped back to his chambers in a sullen mood. Morgana followed behind him at a measured pace, and he wished she'd had the good sense or decency to leave him be. He headed straight to the window. Down in the courtyard, the township went about their common lives. They had no knowledge of the burdens placed on his shoulders or the isolation he felt. 

"Just because he acts like a wild boar," Morgana said just behind him, "doesn't mean he doesn't love you."

"Bah."

"Well, Gwen and I will be there. We'll cheer you on and we don't care what you're representing!" Morgana patted his shoulder. "Just have a good time knocking things over like you usually do."

His breath quickened and he hoped she didn't notice. "Guinevere will accompany you to the tournament?"

"Yes, she's sitting in the box with me. At first, Uther was against it, but I told him that I wouldn't come without her." She giggled. "You should have seen his face. He can be amusing when you don't take him so seriously."

Arthur ran his hand over his face. "He's my father."

"That he is."

"He's also the King."

"No one could ever forget that."

He shook his head. "You would never understand."

"Tell me."

He considered it, but he dreaded rehashing the weight of responsibility that came with being Uther's son. Morgana enjoyed the freedom of being his ward. She did not need to be burdened with his misery. Nor did he want to mire in his sorrow.

"Will Guinevere be your attendant at the feast, too?" He kept his back to her as he spoke of her handmaiden, lest his face revealed too much.

"I suppose so, but she usually leaves before nightfall. Lady Angelica made that request because of her age."

"Her age?" Arthur asked, his interest piqued. "How old is she?"

"Thirteen."

A year younger. Thank heavens, she's not twelve, he thought. 

"In the lower town they marry at this age, don't they?"

Morgana laughed. "Gwen isn't married. She still lives at home with her father and her brother. I doubt if she's even spoken for."

Arthur hated the relief that soared through him. He had no business caring this much. She was common. Not of noble birth or association. Pretty, though. And her smile made him warm just to remember it.

"Who are you escorting to the feast?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Squires are allowed to bring escorts. Some of your friends have been giving me soft looks. So far none of them have summoned the courage to ask."

"Which ones?" Arthur asked, frowning as he turned to face her.

Morgana gave him a wide grin. "I'm not telling until you tell me who you'll be on your arm."

He frowned. Certainly not who he'd like to be. "Father has made arrangements. A niece of Lord Garrison's I think. I can't remember." He narrowed his eyes at her. "Tell me."

"Ranulf and Bors." She sighed. "And poor Alexander, but he's so clumsy. I wouldn't dare say yes to him."

D*f*G

The morning of the tournament, Gwen arrived at the castle before daybreak. There was so much to do! Servants were almost moving on top of each other as they hurried down the corridors. Gwen reached Morgana's chambers to find the other girl already awake and almost dressed. 

"I couldn't sleep!" Morgana said. "Look at you. You're pretty today."

Gwen had made alterations to one of her mother's meeting dressings. Her usual attire of blouse and tunic didn't seem fitting for the day's activities, nor did they suit the pretty silk ribbon that she had been given. So far, she hadn't found the courage to tie the ribbon in her hair, but she had carried it in her pocket in case she changed her mind. The ribbon was a perfect match to her mother's yellow dress.

"Thank you. It was my mother's."

"She was quite a seamstress. She could have been at Court." Morgana sat at her dressing table and Gwen took her brush and began styling the young Lady's hair. "I'm having breakfast with the King and his guests."

"Yes, My Lady."

"Have you eaten?" Morgana asked.

"We had porridge."

"But you're here so early."

"Dad made sure it was ready. He and Elyan walked me here and then they went to the forge. We all had an early start this morning."

Morgana peered into the mirror as Gwen ceased brushing. "My hair looks perfect. Thank you, Gwen. I must see the seamstress before breakfast. She's putting the finishing touches on my gown for the feast!"

"Have you decided on an escort?" 

"It's down to two. I'll know after the first round of events." Morgana laughed. "The fitting and breakfast shouldn't take long. When I come back, we will set off for the lower field. I'm beside myself!"

Gwen laughed as the door closed behind her. In the following silence, she was able to straighten the room and put away the numerous dresses that Morgana had discarded in her hurry to dress herself. Once done, Gwen found herself standing in front of the mirror. Her mother's dress really did become her. The yellow suited her skin tone. It was funny how she had never thought of such a thing before. Before she could question herself, she slipped her hand in her pocket and pulled out the ribbon. The silky fabric was so soft against her skin. She just had to see it tied in her hair.

"Guinevere."

Just with a single word—her name—Gwen's heart started to pound. The thudding was so intense she was certain that the prince heard it. She turned from the mirror. There he stood in the doorway. Dressed in chainmail with his sword at his hip, he looked less like the boy Morgana loved to tease and more like the handsome young man the girls in the lower town tittered over.

Nervous and unsure, she gripped the sides of her skirt and dipped low for a respectful curtsy. "My Lord."

"Arthur," he firmly correctly when she stood upright. He had come fully into his room. Now he stood just a few feet from her. "Where's Morgana?"

"She's with the seamstress."

"The seamstress?"

"She's having a dress fitted for the feast," she said.

"Oh, yes. The King's birthday feast," Arthur said with a faint smile. "Are you attending with Morgana?"

"Not this year."

"Why not?"

His questions flustered her. His direct, unwavering stare left her rattled. Yet, Gwen was unable to look away or go silent. "It will be late when it ends. My dad wants me home before dark."

His gaze drifted over her from head to toe and back again. When he was done, a slight frown crinkled his brow. "The ribbon in your hair…suits your complexion."

This time, she truly had no words so she simply smiled. His expression seemed as if he wanted to say more, but nothing came. Then without anything else passing between them, he left.

Later at the tournament, Gwen sat in the Pendragon spectator box with Morgana. The location gave her a fantastic view of the day's events and the spectators who had come to watch. From the corner of her eye, she saw her father enter the stands. He sat near Tarran and her family. Their gazes caught and he waved. She returned the gesture and his broad smile. 

Her curiosity got the best of her. If her father was here, Elyan had to be, too. As Morgana spoke excitedly to the King's young guests, Gwen continued to sit just behind her and search through the row of seats for her brother. The seating for the commoners was on the other side of the arena, but she was able to identify most of the eager faces. 

Then she spotted him.

"Lyra's with him!" she whispered happily to herself.

"What?" Morgana asked, turning to look at her.

A little embarrassed, Gwen shrugged. "Oh, it's nothing."

"I heard you say "him." Who's the boy?" Morgana teased. "Friends don't keep secrets."

"Just my brother. He's over there," Gwen said with a short jut of her head. She looked again and Elyan was talking to Lyra with the brightest smile on his face. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him so happy. 

Morgana looked in the direction and smiled. Then she started clapping. "The squires are coming!" 

Gwen moved her chair forward just a bit, only to get a better look. Sure enough, there they were. Their red cloaks gave them an official air and almost hid their lack of maturity. Oh, but some of them were definitely on the path to manhood. They sat erect and sure on their mounts. As they rode in, two by two, no one could question that these young men were proud to serve Camelot and wear the royal red.

The march around the arena ended at the Pendragon box. Leon, who sat a head taller than most, stopped at the box's edge. Arthur was next to him. Sir Candor began to speak, but Gwen didn't hear a word. She was too enthralled by the spectacle. Each squire wore a colored sash. Arthur's was red, of course, but to her surprise, Leon's was yellow like the ribbon she wore. 

Without thinking, she touched the ribbon. Leon's eyes caught hers in that moment. His mouth curved in the faintest smile. She almost doubted it happened until he winked. She felt the warmth of the blush as it came upon her. To distract her from this strange moment, she glanced away from Leon only to find herself trapped in Arthur's heated gaze. 

A jolt shot through Gwen. She blinked. When she looked again, Arthur's attention was trained elsewhere. She slid her chair back to its original position and drew in a deep breath. Perhaps, she imagined it. But no, his flushed face, drawn mouth and flashing eyes meant that something had upset him. She pondered the source, but then she realized that it was no use. She didn't understand him anymore than she understood what happened when their eyes met. 

Then the tournament began, and her thoughts of Arthur, Leon, ribbons, and sashes were dashed by the revelry of sport and competition.


	8. Pound of Flesh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen and Arthur ponder tokens of affection as the tournament continues. Elyan lets down his guard.

Chapter 8: Pound of Flesh

Watching the tournament filled Gwen with a sense of awe. She and her family had often attended previous events, but this was the first time she actually knew some of the participants. Leon sat so tall and proud on his mount. It was hard to believe that he was the same boy who played chase with her and Elyan in his manor or sought them out for frogging at midnight. Yet looking at him now, she could hardly see the boy anymore. He was as tall as his father and his shoulders almost as broad. Just lately, he had a way of looking at her that—

"Gwen!" Morgana reached behind to grab her hand. "Come close! You'll miss everything back there."

She heeded the young ward's order with haste. Mindful of her place and King Uther's watchful gaze, Gwen made sure to keep her chair a half foot or so behind Morgana. When she felt his eyes shift back to the arena, she released a quiet breath. Being this close to the man was a bit unnerving. The de Maris family, while of noble blood, was not too strict about class distinction. At least, Lady Angelica wasn't. Over the years, she'd softened Sir Lionel in some areas, but not so much in others. Deira never served the Lady on tournament days. Instead, she was allowed to spend it with her family. For the first time, Gwen was reminded of that and how much she missed her. With tears threatening, she focused her attention on the arena.

By now, the squires had completed the full circle and had exited the arena. When they returned, the knights rode in first and the older squires, who were competing, followed. The younger squires headed toward the lists. The knights and squires split off in the center. The knights moved toward the eastern side of the arena while the squires went west. Gwen slid to the edge of her seat to get a better look at Arthur and Leon.

They no longer rode together. Arthur was Ranulf, and Leon was at the end near Bors. The older squires from the neighboring kingdoms soon joined them and her view of Arthur and Leon was lost. Cheers erupted as two squires came forward. Both wore helmets and held lances. One rode to the far end of the section divided by wooden rails covered in brightly colored sashes and ribbons. A horn blast signaled for the competitors to advance and they charged toward each other.

One squire lost his balance. When he fell to the ground, the other squire held his lance high above his head in victory. This went on time after time. Gwen's heart raced every time a new squire approached. She both dreaded and anticipated Leon and Arthur's participation. Having seen them on the training field, she knew they were both capable. But this frightened her!

"Isn't this exciting!" Morgana beamed.

Gwen gulped and nodded. Then it was Leon's turn. His opponent hailed from Nemeth. She dug her fingers into her skirt with a strong grip. The two squires rode into position and Gwen felt as if her heart would leap from her chest. Then their horses raced toward each other and the event was over in seconds. Leon, the clear winner, lifted his lance once, nodded at the crowd and rode toward the winner's circle. 

Gwen wasn't sure if she should clap for Leon or cry in relief that he wasn't hurt. Morgana turned to her again and said, "Your friend is quite accomplished in the arena."

"It's only the first event, My Lady."

Morgana gave her a wide grin. "I can tell. He'll do well. He has good form."

Light danced in Morgana's green eyes and Gwen felt heat warming her cheeks. She wasn't sure what the ward was implying, but she sensed there was an under current to her words. She chose not to dwell too deeply on them and returned her attention to the tournament. 

Squires from other kingdoms also competed in the jousting. Finally, Arthur moved into position. His red slash waved from his hip as if already declaring him the winner. He sat with such confidence on his horse. Gwen thought he looked very powerful and less like a prince, but more like a warrior. The moment came for the squires to advance, and the image of him blurred before her eyes. The next thing she knew, the other squire was on the ground and Arthur was facing the Pendragon box, his lance at his side. He gave a curt nod in the King's direction before joining the others in the winner's circle.

Soon after, workers came in to set up for the next round. Jesters provided entertainment, but Gwen found no amusement in their spectacle. Oh, they were funny enough with their pratfalls and silly songs and stories, but her mind was too aware of the potential for hurt and harm. The following event was swordplay and although the swords were blunted, she had no desire to see either young man felled by an opponent. 

"My Lady, shall I go down for refreshments for you and your guests?" Gwen hoped Morgana would agree for if she didn't, she would have to create another reason to excuse herself.

"That would be lovely!" Morgana smiled at her. "You're so thoughtful. Just drinks. We'll have plenty to eat later at the feast."

"Yes, My Lady," she said with a bow and nod.

Relieved, Gwen rushed from the box and raced down the stairs. As her feet touched the ground, the cheers roared inside the arena. She had made her escape just in time! From the loud volume, she knew that the next event had begun. She took the long way to the royal food tent. Other servants of nobility stood ahead of her and she was happy for the wait. 

"Gwen!" 

She turned to find Lyra hurrying toward her. Once together, the pair locked arms. Lyra gave the yellow ribbon a playful tug. 

"Well?" her friend said with a teasing grin.

"Well, what?" Gwen countered. 

"Yellow ribbon in your hair and a yellow sash on a certain squire. Should we assume it's only a coincidence?"

Gwen had no response to Lyra's question or to her friend's giggles. Instead, she just moved with the line. Very quickly, Lyra grew annoyed. 

"Gwen!"

"What?" she answered with a gasp and a hint of irritation. She glanced around. No one was staring, yet. The other people near them served for the nobility of Camelot and the visiting kingdoms. The last thing Gwen wanted was to be fodder for gossip among strangers. Her mother had often warned her that vile talk could be the downfall for a handmaiden. It was best to keep her own counsel and Gwen had taken her mother's words to heart.

"Keep your voice down," Gwen added. 

"Sorry!" Lyra replied in a contrite whisper. "But why are you keeping secrets from me?"

"What secrets? I told you I was coming today and that I'd be sitting in the Pendragon box—"

"Not that," Lyra cut in. "I'm talking about Leon."

"What about Leon?"

"Did he not give you that ribbon?"

Without thinking, Gwen touched the tips of the silky fabric. She shrugged and said, "Yes?"

"It matches his sash."

"So?"

"Gods, Gwen!" Lyra rolled her eyes. "Do you really not see?"

"What is there to see? They're both yellow…"

"Surely, you know of the tradition."

Gwen shook her head. Her mother had taught her many things, but nothing about ribbons and sashes. "What tradition?"

"Knights, and squires too, accept and give tokens…of affection…and wear them during the tournament."

"B-but…" Gwen remembered Leon's face when he gave her the ribbon and how he asked her to wear it. She remembered the intensity of his expression as if it meant something more than what he was saying. She also remembered not understanding fully, but being pleased that he had thought of her. "Oh, my. A token of affection…"

"Do you have plans to meet after the feast?" Lyra asked. "Oh, the romance of it! Of course, he dare not ask to escort you to the feast. Did he? You'd tell me if did, wouldn't you?"

"Of course!" Gwen said. The revelation had rattled her and she still couldn't be sure. Lyra could be a tad fanciful. Just because Leon gave Gwen a ribbon didn't mean he fancied her. They had been friends since they were tiny little babes! 

"Did he?"

"Did he what?" Gwen asked. She was still mulling it over. Her tall friend fancying her seemed odd. How could that be? He was a squire. She was just Gwen. 

"Ask to escort you?" Lyra asked in a huff. "Talking to you is like talking to pile of moss!"

"Sorry! And keep your voice down!" Gwen glanced around. They had been edging toward the refreshment table, but the progress was slow. So many people were milling around. "No, he didn't ask, and he wouldn't. What about you? I saw you and Elyan in the stands. Do you have plans after the tournament?"

For the first time ever, Lyra blushed. "He asked to walk me home."

"What did you say?" Gwen couldn't help but ask. She knew the answer from the happiness dancing in her friend's eyes.

"Yes, of course!"

Lyra's outburst caused them both to laugh. Minutes later Gwen was alone again. She had a tray of refreshments and was walking carefully back to the Pendragon box when a loud gasp from the spectators stopped her in her tracks. In the silence, she hurried up the steps and set the tray on a nearby table. Unable to resist, she searched the arena for the source of the audience's alarm.

The familiar red sash lay on the ground. At first, she didn't see Arthur. Then she looked again and there he was, standing over his opponent. In that moment, he pulled his helmet off, tilted his face toward the box, and raised his sword high in salute. Another strange sensation rippled through her, rendering her still as a statue and completely mesmerized. 

D*f*G

A surge like lightning rushed through Arthur when he stood victorious over the squire from Odana, but the feeling was nothing compared to when his gaze found Guinevere, standing just behind Morgana inside the royal box. A few moments before, she hadn't been there. Suddenly, she appeared and the roar of the spectators did not compare with the pounding in his chest. 

Soon though, the noise filtered through and he recognized time and place. He looked at Uther. The King's grin was as bright as the sun. He lifted his gloved hand and beckoned. Arthur's win had concluded the elimination round. The final competitors were decided and after a series of demonstrations by the knights in the arena, the squires would return for their final events. 

Fellow squires, other nobility, and commoners extolled words of praise as Arthur worked his way around the arena to the Pendragon box. The King was waiting for him and proudly grasped his forearm in a strong grip. 

"Well done!"

"Thank you, Sire," he said.

"Odin's boy will not forget this day," Uther declared.

Arthur nodded. In the heat of competition, he didn't have time to ponder the identity of his opponent. Domination was the goal. However, he did feel a certain amount of pride to know that his victory had been over a fellow prince. He moved to stand near Morgana's chair. In the back of his mind, he was very much aware that Guinevere sat quietly behind her. 

"Is everyone enjoying the tournament?" He noted that two of Morgana's companions were about their age. One had hair the color of spun gold and the other's was dark brown like his father's ward. But it was the quiet girl with the brown curls and yellow ribbon who truly had his attention. 

"This is one of the most fascinating tournaments I've ever attended," said the one with golden locks. "You, My Lord, are unmatched in the arena."

Distracted by the ribbon and the meaning behind it, Arthur barely registered the girl's compliment. What was the purpose of Guinevere's ribbon and Leon's sash being the same color? Was it truly a token? If so, had Guinevere extended it or vice versa? Not that he should care, he decided. But still, the thoughts nagged at him. Then there were also the looks that passed between the two before the tournament began, as well as, the way the pretty handmaiden had looked at Arthur and how she was shyly looking at him now. 

What did it all mean?

"Arthur!" Morgana hit him with her fan. "Marigold says you're sure to be the victor."

He offered the girl a nod in response. Morgana giggled and he shook his head. Girls.

As he moved to leave, Uther called him over. His father wrapped his arm around his shoulder and drew him to the back.

"I have never been more proud of you," the King said. "You were ruthless and showed no mercy. You must continue with the same drive and determination."

"Yes, Father—I mean, Sire."

"No squire has your strength or speed. Do not doubt yourself." Uther smiled. "You're the pride of Camelot."

Arthur tried to ignore the pressure building in his stomach. Noises from the spectators signaled that changes were happening in the arena and Arthur should leave. He moved through the back of the box to avoid further conversation with Morgana and her new friends. To his surprise Guinevere softly called his name.

"Arthur?"

He stopped at her chair. "Yes, Guinevere?"

"Good luck."

He couldn't stop the faint smile that curved his lips. Words failed him, but he was able to offer a slight nod. Later, he sat astride his horse inside the arena with the other squires who were competing in the final games. He considered his father's words of encouragement and Guinevere's quiet sentiment. Somehow, the handmaiden's blessing echoed the longest in his ears.

Movement from the other squires jostled him to the front. Unable to stop himself, he glanced toward the Pendragon box. Morgana and her friends seemed to be full of mirth as they conspired. His father appeared eager for the tournament to continue. And Guinevere… Arthur's breath quickened for she was looking in his direction! But wait. Her attention was not on him. He glanced to his left and there sat Leon on his mount. A conversation was obviously happening between them, or some type of communication. 

His hand gripped the reins and he slammed his helmet on. When the call came for the first competitors, Arthur charged into the arena.

D*f*G

The warm smile that greeted Gwen at the castle entrance was a welcome sight. After the gore of the latter half of the tournament, she welcomed her father's presence. She hugged him tight and he lovingly returned her embrace.

"Gwennie?" Tom took her hand. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head. She didn't want to put words to her concerns. Perhaps they would make her appear childish? Her father's confidence in her helped her through any rough patches she encountered. It wouldn't aid her at all if he started to see her as an easily frightened child again.

But there was so much blood, she thought. Leon had favored his side so carefully. And Arthur's eye was swollen shut. Not to mention how the other squires and knights fared. If she did not dream of it, she would be surprised. No doubt Gaius would be busy well into the night.

"Gwen, it won't do you well to keep your troubles from me," her father said. "Was the young Lady more demanding today?"

"No, Dad," she said. "If anything, today was much lighter. She wanted me to enjoy myself."

"Then what is it?"

"The tournament…" She paused to chew her bottom lip. She'd witnessed the rough play of boys before. Elyan was no stranger to bruised knuckles or bloodied lips. So why was she so distressed this time? What made these injuries so unnerving?

"What happened at the tournament? I know that King Uther can be rather… Well, he can have a way with… Was he unkind to you?" Tom finally asked.

She shook her head. "He was neither kind or unkind. He doesn't speak to me."

"Does he look at you?"

"Just to make sure I know my place," Gwen said with a short laugh. When her father grunted, she quickly explained how Morgana kept insisting that Gwen move her chair closer to the front of the box. At every insistence, Gwen felt the King's disapproving stare. In the end, Morgana won and Gwen's chair was out of the shadows and in position to see the events without offending her benefactor.

Tom nodded in response and squeezed her hand. "So, if you're not upset about that, then what is it? It doesn't suit you well to keep things locked inside. You know that."

"I know," she said quietly. 

As they walked home slowly, they passed friends and neighbors who were still out and about. Tournaments always created an active atmosphere. She used to love it when she was a little girl, but it also frightened her, too. So many strangers coming into town made her aware of how big the world was. She was always happy that her parents were nearby to keep her and Elyan safe.

"The competitions were so vigorous," she said.

"They always are."

"But it's just a game. They were competing for prizes and some for the purse. Many of them required stretchers to leave the arena."

"Knights are warriors," Tom said. "They understand the cost of battle. None of this is new to them and it's just sport."

"But the squires!" She pressed a hand to her mouth. She dare not say more. It truly pained her to think of their injuries.

"The squires are knights in training," her father replied. "It will not do any of us well if they are not prepared. The tournaments see to that, but that's not it, is it? You're worried about Leon. He fared well out there. T'is pity he did not win in his division, but I dare say no one would have defeated the young Pendragon. I have never seen a squire perform like that before. No one has. He will be the talk of the Five Kingdoms for years to come."

"They were injured."

"Bruises and cuts will heal." Her father laughed softly. "Ah, my sweet Gwennie, you have such a gentle spirit. Trust me. Those boys will be just fine."

Her father spoke with such conviction that she had no choice but to believe him. Her unease started to settle. As defenders of Camelot, both Arthur and Leon would face much worse. Today was just the beginning. She sighed. Her father laughed.

"Trust me," he said. "Oh, look who we have here."

The crowd had fanned out. Gwen was able to recognize more of the other travelers headed home. A couple ahead of them was very familiar. 

"Elyan and Lyra."

Tom chuckled as the pair turned off toward Lyra's cottage. "What do you say about that?"

"They're happy," she said. "I'm happy for them."

"I suppose Elyan will be looking to build his own cottage sometime soon." Tom looked down at Gwen. "You would tell me if you were ready to start courting, wouldn't you?" 

Gwen blushed.

He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. "Don't mind me. I'm just having a hard time watching you two grow up. I still see you as my little girl, but I guess like Lyra, you're growing up. It's time I realized that."

She wasn't sure if he was expecting a response. If so, she had nothing for him. She didn't know what to say. Her earlier conversation with Lyra had left her dumbfounded. How was she to know the ribbon had significance? She, Leon, and Elyan had often traded little treasures. Of course, they hadn't done it as much since Elyan started working in the forge and Leon became a squire. Come to think of it, the three of them hadn't done it all since then. 

She couldn't be sure that the ribbon was a token of affection. Any more than she could be sure that his wink was any more than him teasing her. Yet, lately, Leon certainly had a way of looking at her that was unlike the looks of their youth. 

Then there was Prince Arthur.

She hadn't told anyone about how she felt when he said, Guinevere. Gods, it made her skin tingle! And the way his blue eyes just stared. She felt as if he could see straight through her. She shivered at the thought.

"Cold?"

"No, Dad."

Safe at home, she sat at the table while her father warmed the stew. They would eat when Elyan returned. As she watched her father, she mustered the courage to ask him a question that had begun to pester her.

"I suppose the feast is starting now," she said.

"I suppose it is. The wounded should all be bandaged and ready to enjoy their labor." He paused stirring to look at her. "Are you disappointed that you had to come home?"

She shrugged. "Not so disappointed."

"But maybe a little," he said with a gentle smile. "Perhaps if you'd had an escort, I would have considered it. But since you are the ward's handmaiden, I guess I will have to allow it next year."

"Thanks, Dad."

D*f*G

Elyan didn't know where he had found the courage. When he saw Lira arrive at the tournament and separate from her family, he made his way toward her and the next thing he knew, they were together in the stands. He couldn't remember enjoying an afternoon more. Now, they were walking home and the evening was even better. 

A couple of stolen glances revealed that she seemed as happy as he. A ready smile was never far from her soft, full lips. Her usual wild, unruly curls were pulled from her tawny face to reveal an occasional pink tint to her cheeks. Lyra's friendship with Gwen made her a frequent visitor to the Degrance cottage. Elyan had always been aware of her pretty face and engaging disposition. But it was recently that he had started thinking about her as much as he thought about what he could never have.

"That was quite a tournament," Lyra said, smiling up at him. "Can you remember the squires performing with such fire? I dare say they outshone the knights."

"No, I can't remember," he said, quietly.

"Prince Arthur... He was like a true warrior!" She touched Elyan's arm. "I would not like to see you risk yourself that way."

"The squires and the knights are honorable. The tournament allows everyone to see their skill and bravery."

"There are other ways to be brave and you are very skillful."

He looked down at where she had touched him. "I'm not speaking of myself."

"I know, but…" She sighed. "Elyan, I understand. You wish to wear the Camelot red. Maybe one day…"

"Things will change?" He released a short, humorless laugh. He then looked at her. The compassion on her face eased the yearning that had tortured him for quite awhile. He didn't pause to allow fear and doubt to stop him. He took her hand. It was small and tender against his and the fit was perfect.

The rest of the walk to her cottage was quiet. He became aware of his senses in ways he hadn't been before. How her scent was fragrant like flowers, and he liked the smell. How her skin was soft and much smoother than his, and he liked that, too. 

They reached her cottage far sooner than he wanted. With reluctance, he released her hand. 

"Thank you for seeing me home."

He smiled. "I would like to see you to work tomorrow…if you would like?"

"I would like," she said, shyly. 

"Till tomorrow."


End file.
